


The Repeat

by MS976



Series: The Repeat [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Character Death, Endgame : Sirius / Hermione, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fix-It, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Torture, Marauders Era (Harry Potter), Self-Harm/Suicide, Time Travel, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-21
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:00:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 23
Words: 81,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27133538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MS976/pseuds/MS976
Summary: What she was about to do was dark, really, truly dark in a way she never usually would have considered, but they had no other choices.Everything goes wrong and faced with no other options Hermione makes an almost impossible decision - to start again.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Kingsley Shacklebolt, James Potter/Lily Evans Potter, Sirius Black/Hermione Granger
Series: The Repeat [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2169345
Comments: 380
Kudos: 556
Collections: Fics I Love





	1. The End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyy, so this is the very first fic I've ever written. After literal years of reading of fics coronavirius isolation has convinced me its time to try writing them.  
> I've got everything planned out and have already written the first few chapters so I'm hoping to update every week or so but I guess we'll see.  
>   
> Also! I'm putting trigger warnings for each chapter in the end notes so you can just scroll down if you want to check but this way theres no spoilers but you can also check if you want to.  
> This first chapter went much darker than I was expecting it to, and is darker than the rest of the fic as well, but we can only go up from here right? Also lmk if you think I should add any other warnings.  
>   
> Disclaimer : I do not own the Harry Potter series or anything that you recognise. Those all belong to she-who-shall-not-be-named who I in no way support but like to play with her characters occasionally.
> 
> TW in end notes

They had been trapped here for weeks.

Initially, they had tried to contact the remaining pockets of the Order, but they had never succeeded. Then they started losing people.

Ron, just gone, vanished, in an attempt to find the few remaining family members he had left. George shortly after, to the pain of losing not only his other half but the rest of his family too. Kingsley had been last, this time able to make it back to Grimmauld before succumbing to the cutting curse some unknown Death Eater had thrown at him.

By now, it was only Hermione left. The last member of the Order of the Phoenix, the sole survivor of the Golden Trio. Alone, alone after everything had gone so spectacularly wrong.

She tried not to think back on it too much, but it was hard not to. Hard to escape the memories echoing around her head with no-one there to stop them. That feeling of triumph when Harry had revealed himself in the Great Hall having escaped Death for the second time. It had made the pain that came after so much more unbearable. That moment of hope, before things spiralled out of control.

Somehow, despite it all, despite destroying the Horcruxes and having the Hallows, and everything. Harry had still lost. She’d watched as his body slumped to the ground when the green of Voldemort's Avada made contact with his chest, for the third and this time final time, with a strange detachment. Like an out of body experience, one she wasn’t truly there to see.

It was hard to say what happened next. Somewhere between Voldemort’s glee at having finally defeated the Boy-Who-Lived and the Death Eaters' celebrations at their victory, the last vestiges of the Order of the Phoenix started to fight. Not that it had lasted long. Molly was the first to go. Having killed his favourite follower Voldemort had quickly turned his wand on her, Arthur also going in his attempts to save his wife. Ginny too had been lost that day, between the heartbreak of losing her brother, her parents and her beloved, it had been too much. She just didn’t have it in her to fight back anymore. Not that Hermione really knew how she had made it out either.

She and Ron had been fighting together, trying desperately to escape the Death Eater’s keen to claim the honour of killing Harry Potter’s best friends, when Voldemort had called for silence once more. Again, offering the chance to come to fight for the 'right' side. This time though, people started to join him. Their last hope, having died with Harry. It was McGonagall that had surprised Hermione. Stepping out and calling those who crossed cowards, shooting curses into the crowd of Death Eaters somehow taking out Yaxley, but to no real end. Gryffindor to a fault, McGonagall too had been struck down by Voldemort’s own wand, unwilling to betray one of her students even in death.

McGonagall’s proclamation prompted a second order from Voldemort. This time calling for his followers to round up anyone who refused to pledge their loyalty to the cause. At this chaos reigned. Death Eaters attempting to capture the resistance, members of the Order of the Phoenix fleeing, so many of whom Hermione would never see again. She still didn’t know what had happened to Bill, Fleur, Percy, Neville, any of them. Amidst the chaos, she and Ron had somehow found a bewildered-looking George, and together they’d fled the castle. Unsure of where to go, and this time unprepared to escape to the woods they decided to take their chances on Grimmauld Place, not that they had much in the way of other options.

Arriving at the dilapidated house, they found they were not the only ones to flee to the Order’s old headquarters. There were several tense moments between their group and Kingsley Shacklebolt while they ascertained each other's identities. Following that, though, a jarring silence fell over them, as they attempted to process what had happened.

Once the silence had settled, Kingsley finally spoke, revealing that he and Aberforth Dumbledore had fled together, after seeing several others leave or get captured, but Aberforth had caught a stray hex while apparating.

His body was in the living room.

And so, the four of them had become the occupants of 12 Grimmauld Place. Stuck there, waiting and hoping and trying to plan, but there was little they could do. They had been there a month when Ron started to grow restless. The thought of his remaining family members out there somewhere, potentially alone and in danger placing him on edge.

Hermione could understand his desire to try and find anyone else, especially family, but the truth was they had heard nothing. They had had no visitors, recieved no replies to their daily messages on the DA coins, nothing. There had been no sign that any of the Order of the Phoenix had survived, and so she was reluctant to leave the relative safety of Grimmauld without a plan.

In the end, the decision had been taken from her. Ron slipped out under cover of darkness to try and find his family, or news, or anything. They never heard from him again. George didn’t last much longer after Ron’s departure. It became clear after several days of no news from Ron that the worst had likely befallen him. Facing being the only Weasley left, George chose instead to join his twin. One could never have lasted long without the other anyways.

That left Hermione and Kingsley alone in Grimmauld and seemingly the world. It was a strange existence. Something about knowing you can only rely on this one other person, different somehow from that time alone in the forest with Harry. As hopeless as it had been at times in that tent, there had always been the underlying reassurance that Harry had been meant for it, born to defeat the Dark Lord.

Instead, there was her and Kingsley, bonded not by friendship but helplessness, a literal lack of any other options. No destiny was driving them, and they had no real mission to focus their energies on, just the two of them trapped within the walls of Grimmauld, hoping for something, though they didn’t know what.

Hermione’s first venture into the library was out of the desire to do anything but sit around and wait. She had spent some time in there over the summer before her fifth year but, in reality, Mrs Weasley had kept them busy cleaning, and the texts held in a library belonging to the Black’s had been deemed too dark for children to read anyways.

Still, they had no other plan, and books had always held the answer for her in the past, and so Hermione started reading. She gained no pleasure from the Black family’s books, so many of them repeating the same hateful bigotry she had just fought a war against; lost a war against. But she didn’t know what else to do. At some point Kingsley had joined her, both of them craving action but having no other ideas of how to achieve anything. They still hadn’t heard anything from the outside.

It was after several days spent reading in that library that she stumbled across it. It was a book she never usually would have opened; bound in some kind of skin she was nearly certain was human. It had no title, only a dark, ominous feeling that made Hermione almost afraid to read it. She doesn’t really know why she did. It outlined all number of foul practices; rituals to bind a wife to you, stonger than the Imperious, completely impossible to throw off. Ones to ensure the birth of a male heir, ones to reanimate the dead, and then there it was. A ritual to send a soul back. Back before they had been born.

Hermione didn’t mention it at first. She didn’t know how to bring the possibility up. It was dark. Really, truly, dark in a way the Order of the Phoenix _never_ would have considered before, but things had changed. Everything had changed. There was no Order anymore. There was only her and Kingsley, alone in the world, and with no other options Hermione could see. And so she studied it silently, learning its intricacies, trying to determine how it could work. Eventually though the time came that Hermione had to explain her plan to Kingsley, she still didn’t see any other options, and they would only get one chance at this. The ritual had to be performed at the summer solstice, and they would not last another year holed up in Grimmauld Place, of that she was certain.

She was surprised when Kingsley didn’t immediately write it off, more so when he agreed with what she had come up with. The ritual was specific. It must be performed at sunrise on Midsummer to represent the rebirth, it must be paid for with lifeblood, and the caster must be tethered by blood too. Beyond this, it gave vague warnings; there was no real guarantee that it would work, there was no way of knowing if it had previously; after all, their current timeline would be destroyed. Instead, it would restart, back at the moment the caster was reborn.

Even its explanations of rebirth were unclear. The caster could only return to a time before they had been born, and they would be written entirely out of existence during this second lifetime, but it didn’t explain what they would be born as. It did explain why the tether was necessary, though. Some way to tie her to the past, to fit her in where she was meant to be going. They hadn’t technically discussed it, but Hermione’s whole plan was based on her being the one to return, and Kingsley had voiced no objections.

Technically the ritual required two tethers. Although, one was far more easily found than the other. One a tether of blood and one a tether of time. Hermione knew when she wanted to go back to. Just long enough ago to stop it all, to stop Harry from spending his entire life fighting, to stop Voldemort from ever being reborn, to stop the Potter’s from dying in the first place. She didn’t want to go too far back but far enough that she had plenty of time to change things, She gave herself five years, hoping to make it to 1976. Five years to find the Horcruxes, defeat Voldemort, and ensure that nothing like this befell the world again. It was a long time, but she needed to be thorough, there could be no mistakes this time.

The tether of time was easy to find. Regulus Black once again contributing to the defeat of the Dark Lord in the form of a journal Hermione hadn’t realised he kept until she found herself in his room thinking back on that moment of joy when she, Harry and Ron had realised who R.A.B was. The diary itself was a tragic read, full of pain that a fifteen-year-old should never have experienced. The pain of losing his brother after he ran to the Potters, of being left alone in this House and to the pressures of being the perfect heir, but it suited Hermione’s purposes. A physical tie to 1976, made stronger by the fears and thoughts poured into it.

It was the blood tether where Hermione struggled. It would be simplest to use Kingsley’s, he was with her after all, and if her plan failed, she might have no choice, but she wanted someone closer. She wanted some guarantee she would have an in with the Marauders, so she sent off a Patronus and prayed they had somehow survived.

Hermione nearly wept when she got the reply. Andromeda’s swan Patronus speaking at her shock to hear from someone else but that she and Teddy too were alive and had been hiding. It was then her and Kingsley made their plan. Since she was the one who would be returning, he would go and collect the Tonkses and bring them to Grimmauld, leaving behind a vial of his blood just in case.

She knew she should have felt bad bringing Andromeda and Teddy here under false pretences, but she mainly felt the faint stirrings of hope in her chest for the first time since she watched Harry’s body hit the floor of the Great Hall. It wasn’t as if she was going to harm the child. She only needed a little of his blood. Even if the ritual didn’t work and nothing happened, it would be for the best. Kingsley wouldn’t be left alone, and Andromeda would have the protection of an Auror and the wards of Grimmauld Place.

If it did work?

Well, then everyone would be better off, and so Hermione felt no guilt letting Kingsley slip out of Grimmauld to retrieve the blood she needed. It was Teddy’s blood that was so vital to her plan. He wouldn’t have been born in 1976, instead tethering her to one of his parents. Hermione hoped and prayed that the magic would choose to tether her to his sixteen-year-old father rather than his three-year-old mother, but honestly either would do. She didn’t know what form the tether would create, although the book indicated it would likely be a blood relation of some sort and so it was Teddy’s blood that she was relying on.

She was alone for several days. Receiving no news from Kingsley, she instead focused on the other parts of the ritual. It required a silver athame, an item she found in Grimmauld’s study, as well as open flames. She supposed she could use one of the many fireplaces, but instead set up a kind of brazier in the courtyard that was still covered by the Fidelius. Having prepared as much as she could, Hermione returned to the book to look over the rebirth rune the ritual demanded but instead found herself contemplating the warnings once more.

It might not work. She may have been about to die for nothing, have her death contribute nothing towards ridding the world of the Death Eater’s but again, if it did work, she could change everything, and could she really turn down that opportunity? No, she had to do it, because if there was even the slimmest chance it could work, then it was worth it.

Having rationalised away any concerns the ritual may not work, she turned her thoughts to the other warnings it listed, those that were less clear. That she would be judged by magic itself as to whether she deserved the chance, the opportunity to try and rewrite history.

Hermione didn't know what would make her deserving or not, whether it was her reasoning for going back or her actions in this life. She only knew she would be judged. The other warning it listed regarded fate, and Hermione honestly didn't know what it meant. It only stated that some things were destined and to destroy that destiny risked destroying the destined itself. She may not have know what it meant, but she knew it wasn't enough to stop her. Not at that point, when she was only waiting for Kingsley to return with the correct blood and for the sun itself to assume the right position.

It was the evening before the solstice when Kingsley hadn't returned that Hermione began to think that it may not go to plan at all. Of course she still had the vial of Kingsley’s blood, and when the sun came up tomorrow, she was going through with the ritual no matter what, but she was still hoping that they’d make it here before then. The plan worked so much better if she was somehow related to Remus or Sirius.

She was lying in bed trying to get some sleep, not that she knew why she was bothering, when the noise started.

The front door opened, and there was the slumping sound of a body falling to the floor. Grabbing her wand, Hermione cautiously made her way downstairs to find Kingsley by the front door. He was alone, and even from a distance, Hermione could tell he was badly injured. Coming close she could tell a cutting curse had torn its way across his abdomen, she didn't know how he made it there.

Levitating him onto a sofa in one of the parlours she knew there was nothing she could do. He needed a hospital and a team of Healers, not an eighteen-year-old in a run-down house, but she was all he had, so she cast the healing charms she knew and summoned a blood-replenishing potion from somewhere. She dreaded to think how old it is but knows it was the best chance she had. Forcing it down his throat, Hermione sat and waited for him to wake.

After half an hour or so Kinglsey began to rise. He couldn't sit up, and Hermione knew he wasn't going to last long, but hopefully, she could get some answers.

“What happened?” She enquired quietly, not wanting to disturb his peace too much but still needing to know. She felt terrible about it, but she mainly wanted to know if he managed to get the blood. Losing everyone had changed her somehow. She knew he was going to die anyway, but Teddy’s blood could make all the difference as to whether they both died in vain, and so it was what she was mainly focused on.

Shakily, Kingsley explained, "they have people around the house, but I got past them, at least I thought I did. Then I apparated all over the place to try and hide where I was going. Andromeda’s managed to keep her house hidden this long, and I didn’t want to lead them right there if possible. I got there yesterday evening, but I needed rest before I could try and get them out of there, so we said we’d wait until tonight to move. I don’t know how they found us, they must have tracked me from somewhere, but they made it to her house in the morning and got through her wards not long after that. Andromeda put up a good fight, and we killed the two that had found us, but they’d already called for help at that point.

“We took a couple of minutes to try and grab things, and I used that time to get a vial of blood, and we tried apparating, but they followed us. Andromeda was carrying Teddy when they got her, killed them both instantly. I knew I had to get the blood back to you, so I started apparating away, but they caught me with the hex. It took me this long to get back here because of it. But, I’m in time, and I have the blood.”

Hermione felt a chill settle over her at that statement. They both knew what they had just done. They had sacrificed Andromeda and Teddy for his blood, removing them from the safety of their home for the promise of a chance to re-do it all, literally bringing death to their door. Kingsley too was going to die because of this endeavour, his skin already the sickly pale that spoke of blood loss and his breathing taking on the rapid, shallow breaths of someone going into shock. He didn’t have long.

Hermione searched his robes for the vial and quickly found it. She could only hope it was all worth it. By the end of this, the ritual would have taken four lives rather than one it called for. She sat with him until his breathing stopped and then closed his eyes for the final time. It felt cold in a way that unsettled her, but she needed to prepare for the ritual. It was the height of summer and sunrise was early, she didn’t have long.

Showering Kingsley’s blood off, she put on a thin robe and made her way out to the ritual space she had made in the garden. It was still dark out, so the courtyard was lit by the central brazier, but that was okay, Hermione didn’t want to see what she was about to do.

It was time.

Only minutes before sunrise Hermione set Regulus Black’s 1976 diary ablaze within a cauldron. She wasn’t making a potion, not truly, but it was convenient. Having collected them, Hermione mixed the vial of Teddy Lupin’s blood in with the ashes and combined them into a paste. Using the silver athame from some unknown Black ancestor, she began carving the ritual of rebirth into her own flesh, right above her left breast. It was painful, and the only thing that allowed her to complete it was the determination that this wasn’t all for nothing.

Having carved the rune above her heart came the part that genuinely sickened her. She used the athame to force the mixture of Teddy’s blood and the ashes of the diary in the wound. It is necessary, she told herself, you must ensure the tether is truly a part of you, part of the rune, a part of the ritual. This part was worse than the initial cut though, agitating it, infecting it somehow.

There were no words to speak, no chants to perform, nothing like the magic Hermione had done at Hogwarts. This was entirely different. Instead, she waited the few moments for the first rays of the sun to make their way up into the sky marking the start of the summer solstice, a true time of rebirth. When they appeared, she leant over the brazier and opened her throat. Giving her lifeblood to the flames, she dropped the athame into the fire, and the ritual was complete.

Hermione Granger was dead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW : Blood, Self-harm, and Suicide


	2. A Beginning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hii!!  
> tysm for such a positive response - i'm so happy !!!  
> this chapter's a little less dark but fingers crossed you guys like it too  
> i think im gonna try and update on sundays now - im still aiming for once a week - i've just decided sundays work best for me  
> also just a little fyi - ive made a few changes from cannon theyre there for a reason - also - there are a few things i couldn't find like exact dates for im just kind of putting them where makes sense - but yeah
> 
> TW in end notes

**Summer Solstice** **1976**

Hermione woke in the worst pain she had ever felt. A burning feeling radiated through her chest, and her skin felt like it was on fire. Then, as quickly as it had hit her, leaving her gasping for breath, the pain was gone. She was dizzy and confused and felt like her brain was trying to escape her skull, but the burning sensation was over. 

She stumbled out of bed and into the bathroom, retching up last night’s dinner, still disorientated. Eventually, she made her way to the sink to rinse out her mouth; working on autopilot. It was not until she saw herself in the mirror that the spinning of her brain came to a sudden halt.

There on her chest was a scar that had not been there the night before. It was the first time she had seen it, but she was fairly sure it was a rune of some kind, and yet it felt strangely familiar. Looking closer, she could recall memories that were not her own. Some horrific sacrifice that she wished she had never seen, not in person and certainly not in her own head. Having opened the floodgates to these new memories, hundreds of them came rushing forwards, and then the world went black. 

Eyes fluttering open Hermione heard the commotion of her roommates in their dorm. They were all panicking, uncertain of what to do with their sick roommate, but she could not help. She could only lie on the bathroom floor and attempt to make sense of the madness happening in her head. Vaguely she remembered to cover the newfound scar. She was not sure what it meant, but she instinctively knew not to let anyone see it. It was still pinky fresh and would only create questions she did not have answers to. 

She didn't know how long she was lying there on the floor, but eventually, someone must have decided what to do. She distantly felt herself being levitated somewhere but was so caught up in untangling the mess of memories in her head she did not take note of it. 

They were strange these new memories. She was still very much herself, sixteen-year-old Hermione Lupin with all of her own memories, and yet there was a lifetime's worth of someone else’s too. They felt different somehow. Some were definitely hers; always with Remus until Hogwarts, and then separated by houses but still connected by something deeper than that.

These new memories, though, they somehow felt like her own and did not at the same time. There was something wrong about them, they itched as they connected with her own memories but slot together nicely to form a coherent story when they found each other. Remus was in the other memories too, but not as she knew her brother, he was older and somehow sadder and broken. 

It was a disorientating experience, and Hermione found herself working through her own memories in an attempt to separate them. She knew who she was. Hermione Hope Lupin, sixteen, Ravenclaw, twin sister to Remus John. She knew this in her soul. But the new memories, they were hers too, but she does not know how. She didn't even appear to exist as herself in the other memories, but so many people she knew were there, and yet not all. She wondered what happened but she dreaded finding out. 

Hermione felt herself being placed in bed and realised she must have been brought to the Hospital Wing. It made sense, but she couldn't risk anyone finding out what was going on inside her head, so it made her nervous too. She knew there was valuable information there and somehow knew to be afraid of other people learning it.

She was, therefore, relieved when she found herself increasingly aware of her surroundings, and heard Madam Pomfrey muttering to herself about magical exhaustion, and putting children under too much stress. Noticing her patient regaining consciousness, Madam Pomfrey started talking to her, 

“Miss Lupin. You’ve been brought to the Hospital Wing with magical exhaustion. Honestly, I don’t know what they’re thinking letting you children go around working yourselves into half the stress you do over these exams. You’re hardly the first case I’ve seen. Having worked yourself ragged during the exam period, now that it’s over, your body is desperately calling for the rest you have denied it. You’ll have to stay here for a few days and sleep.”

Hermione wasn’t going to argue with her. If Madam Pomfrey wanted to chalk her stay in the hospital wing up to OWLs, then she wasn’t going to invite further questions. Especially not when she hadn’t figured out what was going on herself yet. Instead, she nodded sleepily and agreed, hoping she would be left to sort through her thoughts alone. Seeing her charges agreement, Madam Pomfrey swept out of the bay, going to deal with whatever other disasters a magical school could create. 

Finally, alone and with her brain having sorted itself out slightly, Hermione took stock of the new information available to her. It would seem, some future Hermione, not yet born and now never to be, facing no other options had performed a Black family ritual. Hermione questioned how successful the other Hermione had been, but she had indeed succeeded to a certain extent.

She wasn’t truly Hermione Granger in the way she had expected to be when performing the ritual, but she wasn’t not Hermione Granger either. It was a strange revelation. To realise you are not entirely who you were when you went to sleep the night before. But, with the new memories, Hermione Lupin also knew the darkness that lay ahead of them and was determined to prevent it. She may not be a Gryffindor like her brother, at least not in this life, but she could be plenty brave when the time called for it, and she refused to let him become the sad figure featured in the memories. 

Hermione finally took note of her physical condition. It appeared that even without knowing of her tumultuous mental state, Madam Pomfrey was correct in her assessment of magical exhaustion. Hermione had never felt such bone-deep tiredness or the way her very core seemed to cry out for rest. She could only assume that this particular form of reincarnation took its toll on the body as she felt herself drift back into unconsciousness. 

* * *

Hermione heard the Marauders before she saw them. The door to the Hospital Wing slamming open and the voice of an adolescent Sirius Black calling out,

“Poppy! Are you here?” From behind the curtains of her bed, Hermione heard Madam Pomfrey breathe an exasperated sigh before replying, 

“Mr Black, as you have been told many times before, you are to address me as Madam Pomfrey. Regardless, why are you all here? None of you seem injured.” 

“Ahh Madam no, we heard that little Lupin had some kind of OWL induced breakdown and wanted to come see.” At this, the voice of James Potter swiftly cut in before Sirius managed to get them all removed from the infirmary. 

“I think what Sirius is trying to say is that we heard Hermione was here and Remus wanted to come and check on her.” This seemed to have had the desired effect on the Matron, her voice softening as she talked to her brother. 

“Mr Lupin, you are of course aware I cannot discuss your sister’s medical condition with you or your friends. However, provided she would like the company, you are welcome to see her.”

Opening the curtains to her bed, Madam Pomfrey checked Hermione was happy to receive visitors before leaving her to the mercy of the Marauders. The four boys piled into the hospital bay awkwardly crowding around the bed. Her brother took the opportunity to talk first, 

“Hermione, _what happened_ , why are you here?” 

Hermione honestly didn’t know how to answer this. It wasn’t as if she was just going to announce that someone from the future’s memories had been implanted into her brain. No, that would create more cause for concern than the diagnosis Madam Pomfrey had given her. Taking a breath, Hermione began explaining,

“It would seem that my preparation for the OWLs may have been a bit zealous and may have given me a mild case of magical exhaustion. And now that exams are over, my body started to decompress, the results of which made themselves apparent early this morning.” Something in Hermione’s explanation amused James, Sirius and Peter. They broke out into shocked laughter, while her brother stared back in disbelief. 

“You studied yourself into the hospital wing?” 

“I undertook the necessary preparations for potentially future determining examinations, yes,” she replied, unrepentant. Remus looked ready to question her further when James cut in. 

“Oh, come on Moony. Mini here only did what you would have, had we not been around to stop you.” Mini. Hermione hated that nickname. Mini Moony, because despite being twins, she was 14 minutes younger, a fact that Remus, and subsequently his friends, never let her forget. Plus, the now rather significant height difference between the two which had only exacerbated their usage of the hated nickname. Glaring at him to make her displeasure at the moniker known, the boys paid little attention to her. Instead, they fell into their usual sniping and infighting while discussing Remus’ desire to have ended up in a hospital bed next to her. 

Hermione was unsurprised by the turn of events. She loved her brother and was glad he’d found such loyal friends. She did rather wish a trip to visit her sickbed didn’t require all four of them, though. Still, she couldn’t deny that they’d somewhat adopted her as their own regardless of her different sorting. It also made an excellent excuse to compare what she already knew, and what her new memories had revealed to her.

Remus, sweet Remus, her other half had grown up alone until he reached Hogwarts in this other past. That hurt her. The thought that her brother may not have had her through it all. The brother who had literally protected her with his own body the night of that fateful attack had been alone. As much as she wishes she could do more to help her brother in this life, she’s glad that at least he’ll never know life without her if she can help it. And with these new memories, she is going to make plans to help it. 

James and Sirius too, both young and perhaps a little too carefree as she has known them. More attached at the hip than she and Remus ever have been, and yet separated cruelly in this other life, by the betrayal of their friend. Hermione won’t deny that she has always been closer with James than Sirius. James, who befriended her shy brother and drew him out of his shell. Who immediately adopted her into his circle of friends as well. James, who saw so black and white; Remus was his brother, and so Hermione must be his sister. Simple as that. James, who apparently eventually wins the heart of Lily Evans, but for such a short time before dying to protect those he loves. Hermione would not let that happen, not this time, or again? She was not sure of the exact terminology, but either way, Hermione was determined that it would not happen. 

Then there was Sirius, somehow an even more tragic figure than James. Not only betrayed but framed by one he thought of as a friend. Hermione had always liked Sirius sure, but never quite felt that same brotherly connection as she had with James. They got along plenty, and he gifted her stupid nicknames like the hated Mini, but they were always just friends because of the others. Sirius was James’s Remus, and since the three of them were friends, Hermione was around them all a lot too. 

Hermione compared the handsome, laughing youth in front of her with the skeletal, haunted image from the memories and could barely see the similarities. She knew she would do everything she could to stop that fate, because as wild and rash as he may be now, she knew for sure he grew into a good man, and no-one deserves what that Sirius had been put through. 

Finally, her thoughts turned to the fourth marauder. Peter was always the one whose people’s thoughts turned to last, and she knew now how dangerous that was. How dangerous he was, or could be. She had never really gotten along with Peter. Not the anger she felt bubbling within her now, she had just never really been comfortable around him, nor he, her. She was not a Marauder, but she had a bond with Remus in the way James had a bond with Sirius, and she had always felt when she was around the four of them that Peter thought she was taking his place. She certainly had not meant to, but they had always felt a discomfort in each other’s presences.

He was not like James, happy to take on the role of another brother, or like Sirius, with the kind of fun friendship she had grown to expect from him. They were always just uncomfortable around each other. But that had changed now, and she felt a low, burning hatred deep in her stomach. She didn't know when he defected, though it was undoubtedly at least a year before James and Lily’s death if the other Sirius’s reports about the mole were to be believed. She doubts it had happened yet, but just knowing there was the possibility that he would betray his friends ignited a fury within her. She would not do anything for now, but she'll watch him. 

At some point, the boy’s attention turned to the upcoming holidays. James and Sirius excitedly explaining why both Remus and Peter should join them for summer at the Potters when a head of blonde hair poked itself around the curtains of her bed. Pandora floated her way into the room to sit beside Hermione, unperturbed by the boys frosty greeting of, 

“Malfoy. What are you doing here?” 

“Visiting Hermione. Same as you, I imagine,” Pandora replied before continuing, “Also don’t you boys have somewhere to be?” They all looked confused at this before Pandora gestured to her watch prompting the boys to look at theirs. It caused a lot of swearing, and declarations they were going to be late before they started running out of the hospital wing, calling back with a hasty,

“Sorry, Hermione. Detention calls! We didn’t even do anything too bad this time, just think Evans still has her knickers in a twist after the Lake Incident.” Hermione knew exactly which incident the boys were referring to and she did not deny Lily Evans her right to be angry over the whole ordeal. She tried not to involve herself in the boys’ antics too much, but news of this occurrence had still reached her.

That James and Sirius had provoked Snape into lashing out. That he had given back as good as he had gotten, and it had somehow ended with Snape calling his oldest friend that despicable term. She would never use that word if she could help it, especially not now that she had the memories of it being carved into a Hermione that wasn’t quite her.

She was beginning to realise that as much as the memories did feel like they belonged to her, there was a certain detachment from them. Detached as they were though, the scene was still horrific. 

Hermione was mad about the Incident, she knew they were better than that. But she also knew they needed to grow up a little, and that they couldn’t do that with her holding their hands. Besides, it was hardly the first time they had all fought, and no matter what tales of woe Severus Snape told Lily Evans, Hermione Lupin was perfectly aware that he started just as many of those fights as her brother and his friends.

With the Marauders gone, Hermione turned her gaze to her friend and found wide, clear blue eyes staring back at her. For all her brother and his little group may distrust Pandora, Hermione had found her truest friend in her. Even within Ravenclaw, the two of them were outcasts of some sort. Hermione for being just a little too Gryffindor and Pandora for the sin of her family name. Hermione didn’t understand why so many people were caught up on it. Yes, Pandora looked the quintessential Malfoy. With pale, almost translucent skin, white-blonde hair, and those eyes that were currently staring back at her. Pandora was a Malfoy through and through, but she was different somehow too.

Then again, Pandora was different than everyone she knew. Intelligent for sure, but somehow strange. Not like what the memories show of her daughter, less whimsical. More just an unsettling feeling that she knew more than you wanted her to, but that she was hiding things from you as well. It had never bothered Hermione. Pandora may have been keeping secrets, but she was too, even if they weren’t her own up until now. And even if at times it had felt like Pandora already knew the secret she was keeping for Remus they had never discussed it. 

Instead, they bonded over a shared love of magical creatures, quiet studying in the library and being the odd ones out. Sometimes Remus joined them while they were studying, a table of misfit toys. Of all the Marauders, he was the most accepting of Pandora’s place in Hermione’s life, though he too was unsure of her. Hermione didn’t really know why, just like Sirius, Pandora had been sorted against her House’s traditions. She assumed it had something to do with the fact the Malfoy’s had quietly accepted that their youngest daughter was different from them in this matter too. Rather than the complete breakdown of familial relations that had occurred with the Blacks, Pandora did not denounce her family, and they’d never expressed any displeasure towards her. Although, Hermione did find it prudent that she’d never heard a word of blood supremacy from her friends’ mouth. And even more, absolving that she was willing friends with Hermione herself despite her halfblood status. 

Still, sitting there with Pandora’s pale blue eyes looking directly into Hermione’s own mossy green, she couldn't help but think that somehow Pandora knew what had happened to her. 

“You’ve changed,” comes Pandora’s soft voice, quietly confirming Hermione’s suspicions, though she was not sure to what extent. “You’re more than you were when you went to sleep last night.”

Hermione understood what Pandora meants. Something had changed. She was still herself, but she was someone else too. She also knew that she was right, Pandora knew something. Pandora always knew things. Like the boys’ detention, and when it was going to snow, but Hermione had never given it much thought before. It had always just been one of the oddities surrounding Pandora. Now though she couldn't help but wonder what it was she knew and how. But they couldn't discuss it then. There are too many potential eavesdroppers, and the information Hermione had wass far too delicate to risk being overheard. Plus, Hermione wasn't feeling as safe at Hogwarts as she had been the night before. The new memories had opened her eyes to some unsettling truths. Instead, she focused her gaze back on her friend and nodded, 

“Yes. Things have changed, but we can’t talk about them here.” 

“You’re right. We can’t,” Pandora agreed without question, “over the summer then. Those boys will spend the whole time at the Potter’s, and I will come to you, and we will talk.”

It was a foreboding sentence, and yet Hermione felt herself relax on hearing it. She didn't know how much to tell Pandora at this point. Telling her about the memories seemed like too much. It was too personal somehow for memories that weren't technically her own, no matter how much they may have felt like they were. Maybe she could explain what she knew was coming without going into the details of how. It didn't seem as if Pandora was going to push her to reveal it. 

Having reached this accord, Pandora patted her gently on the hand, a reassuring gesture, and then left the hospital wing altogether. Again, Hermione was left alone to decipher her new existence. Things have changed irreparably, but she couldn't start making plans yet. Instead, she spent the last days of term still in the infirmary assessing her new memories further. There was so much to unpack from Hermione Granger’s short, tragic life.

Things were only going to get more dangerous, and the dark lord that there had been so many whisperings of would only get more powerful. Then there was the other information the memories have given her, the lengths to which Tom Riddle had gone to achieve immortality. The thought of it made her stomach queasy, and she knew she would do everything to stop what happened last time from repeating itself. 

The memories were confusing in that respect. They were a past that is the future, and one she was determined to prevent. Had she had any of this knowledge before waking that morning, she would have immediately gone to Dumbledore. But the memories stop her. She can see now the mistakes Dumbledore made last time. Placing too much faith in a prophecy, she would ensure never came to fruition. Keeping so many secrets that it was almost impossible for the Order to operate. Even when he knew he was dying he did little to prepare them for a fight without him.

Then there was what he did to her brother. Asking Remus to go to the very place he feared the most, to risk becoming what he dreaded he already was. Hermione Granger had not known why he volunteered, but Hermione Lupin was already sure Dumbledore had manipulated him into it. Manipulated him in the way he manipulated everybody else in her newfound memories.

Remus was already so grateful to have had the opportunity to come to Hogwarts that he would do anything to repay that kindness. Not that he needed to. It never should have been a kindness; it never should have been a question of him coming at all. Still, Hermione understood how Dumbledore got him to go to the packs. She did not know how to prevent the same thing from happening this time, but she knew she would not trust Dumbledore. Not with her family’s safety, not with the knowledge of the horcruxes, nothing. It was going to have to be something she would do on her own.

Besides, she had no way of explaining how she knew what she does, and she certainly wasn't going to invite questions. Hermione was going to play the long game, just as the other Hermione had desired. She would research, and plan, and plot, and in the end, defeat Voldemort once and for all. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Physical Violence (as always pls lmk if you think i should add any others and i totally will!)


	3. A Conversation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy sunday !!  
> hope everybody had a fun (and safe!) halloween  
> ty again for the super sweet comments they make my day  
> anyway - the chapter  
> TW in end notes

**July 1976**

As instructed by Madam Pomfrey, Hermione spent the remainder of the term in the Hospital Wing. She didn't feel guilty about it. They weren’t doing anything in classes, and the only people who would have missed her appeared in the infirmary at least once a day. The Marauders came to rib her for landing herself there by over-studying, and Pandora for the kind of quiet companionship Hermione appreciated far more than being at the butt of the boys jokes. She did appreciate it that they visited her though. And she spent at least some of the train ride home with them before retreating to the cabin she shared with Pandora when they became a bit much. 

The end of term was an unusual day in the Lupin household. Her parents, who were usually so busy working, met them at the station. They would have both been there regardless, but something about Hermione’s hospital stay made seeing their daughter feel more urgent. For parents usually so worried about the wellbeing of their son, it was a strange turn of events that Hermione was the cause of concern. They did suppose it had to happen at some point so were both there to greet their children off the train following long months away at Hogwarts. 

While Hermione could remember Helen and David Granger, they would never be her parents. That was a position that would always be held by Lyall and Hope Lupin. How could it not be when they’d been the parents she’d known for her whole life. Her relationship with her parents was strained at times. Her father never quite having accepted Remus' condition while their mother tried desperately to make up for any short comings. Still, she knew they loved them both in their own ways. 

Greeting them warmly Hermione found herself noticing their similarities more than ever before. Both she and Remus looked like their mother. Her more than him, though, basically their mother’s clone while her brother had inherited all of their father’s height. They both had the same mossy green eyes and sandy hair, though again Hermione had their mother’s curls while Remus had their father’s straighter locks. 

When they were younger, they’d looked far more similar, but puberty had taken its toll, and Remus’ condition had its own effects. They did still share most of their features though, their slight frames differing between them, looking lanky on Remus while making Hemione petite. Both of them the kind of pale that burned and blushed easily. Hermione hadn’t considered the physical differences between her two bodies until now. She guessed she was a couple of inches shorter now though, her hair blonder to match her brother, and her curls less wild but only slightly so. Physically she was very much still Hermione Lupin, even if mentally the line was a bit more blurred. 

She and Pandora had said their goodbyes on the train. Agreeing to meet in a few days once her parents had returned to work and her brother made his way to the Potter’s house. She didn’t question how Pandora was going to get to her. Her family may have accepted her Ravenclaw sorting, but they tried not to display their friendship in front of them too much. For all her friend may not have been a blood supremacist, the same could not be said for her family. Besides, they both knew they needed to be alone for the conversation to come, so Hermione trusted Pandora’s ability to make her way to the Lupin’s unnoticed.

Instead, she and her parents only needed to wait for Remus to finish saying his goodbyes. He was already promising to visit soon. The promise of a summer spent around the Potter’s house with his friends was far more tempting than anything their cottage had to offer. Although Hermione didn’t know how long he’d be able to go at first. The full moon was approaching; it always was. 

Moons were the thing Hermione hated most about summers. She enjoyed the break from classes as much as any other student, but summers also meant a return to the pre-Hogwarts regime for full moons. While term time allowed Remus to hole up in the shrieking shack, now accompanied by his animagi friends, it was a different reality at home.

Transforming at home meant Remus locked himself in a cage, in the basement, which was warded and physically locked to the extent that it took minutes to open in the morning. Hermione would spend full moons listening to her brother tear himself apart, knowing there was nothing she could do to help, and Remus would be alone the whole time. It had always been this way. Ever since Remus’ first transformation, they’d followed the same routine and while Hermione knew it was for their safety listening to her brother’s attempts to destroy himself never got any easier. 

Now though, Hermione had another option, one stolen directly from the Marauders but a way to help all the same. Remus would be spending the summer alone; they couldn’t exactly tell their parents that his friends had become illegal animagi. Instead, Hermione was hoping they would be willing to overlook it if they thought it was just her. At least then Hermione could keep him company while he locked himself away.

She wasn’t going to tell Remus this plan though, at least not until it was too late for him to tell her no. He would never let her go through with it, but Hermione was determined. Still, she knew it wasn’t an easy endeavour. She wouldn’t achieve the transformation this summer, or likely anytime soon. It was at least some small way to lessen his sufferings in the future though. A way to finally return that protection he’d offered her against Greyback.

There was technically a simpler option than the Animagus transformation. Wolfsbane Potion would eventually be the solution her parents were working so hard towards finding. Currently though, it was yet another thing that she had no way of explaining her knowledge of. The potion would not be announced until the early ‘80s and Hermione didn’t even know where it was in development at this time. And even though her memories knew of the potion, she had never brewed it, so they offered no information as to how to make it. 

All in all, Wolfsbane was a pleasant promise for the future but not a viable option right now. Besides, Hermione becoming an animagus had other uses too. Sirius Black’s escape from Azkaban had shown that. Not that Hermione had any intention of getting herself arrested. It would just undoubtedly be a useful skill over the upcoming years. There was a war brewing after all, and the ability to disappear in plain sight couldn’t be overlooked. It wasn’t a task to undertake just yet, though. The transformation could wait until the start of school in September. When she was away from the prying eyes of her parents, and around a crucial part of her plan to achieve it. 

* * *

Something told Hermione to stay up after her parents had retired for the evening. They had returned to their family’s cottage and had dinner filled with stories about their term at Hogwarts but soon after that their parents went to bed. Hermione considered following them. She still found herself tiring quickly after her stay in the hospital wing, and the return on the Express was always a more exhausting experience than it should be, but something kept her up. 

Hermione could tell Remus wanted to talk to her. It wasn’t a conversation she felt like having where their parents could overhear though. She wasn’t going to tell him the truth of course, at least not yet, but he definitely had something to say to her; she could tell, they always could with each other. 

Instead, she went through the motions of preparing for bed, waiting for when her brother decided he was ready to talk. She was reading when he knocked on the door and slipped inside her room. Clearly ready to get something off his chest, he climbed onto the other end of her bed, turning to look at her.

Hermione waited him out. He would talk eventually when he realised she wasn’t going to start the conversation for him. Neither of them had ever been particularly expressive. They were both naturally quieter, more introverted people, but of the two Hermione usually took the lead. A holdover from childhood when Remus had been convinced that drawing any attention to himself meant revealing his lycanthropy. He had got better at Hogwarts, though. His time spent around the endlessly extroverted Marauders slowly pulling him out of his shell, so Hermione was content to wait until he brought up whatever was bothering him. 

“Are you really okay?” 

Hermione was unsurprised by the question. Remus had always taken those fourteen minutes seriously, having long ago marked himself out as the protector for all they were actually the same age. She was fairly sure that Moony had something to do with it. Remus had been bitten while protecting her and while she would never know for sure she suspected Moony felt like she belonged to him in some way.

“I am. I promise.”

“Really?” Remus replied disbelievingly “because somethings definitely up. It has been since you went to the hospital wing - and don’t give me that shit about studying - we both know it's more than that.”

Hermione cursed her twin's intuition but supposed it was unavoidable that he realised she’d changed. They’d always been too aware of each other. Bonded as twins, they had also spent years as each other's only companion while still learning how to hide Remus’ condition. It had given them both a sort of sixth sense in regards to each other. Still, she was resolute in her decision not to tell him the truth of how drastically she’d changed. Instead settling on some half-truth she hoped would appease her brother. 

“I guess … I guess I just had a revelation of some sort. That we aren’t kids anymore. Something about the end of OWLs really made it clear to me. Two years and we’re out of Hogwarts and into the real world. We both know things aren’t as we would like them to be out there, and neither of us really have any plans about what we want to do, and we don’t know what it's going to be like for you or anything. 

“And I don’t know honestly, I just started thinking about the future. I overwhelmed myself a bit, I think, and I haven’t really been able to stop thinking about it since. It just all seems so much closer now somehow - and I don’t know if I’m ready for it.” 

As Hermione started explaining, more came pouring out of her than she expected. While she didn't reveal that the future she worried she was not prepared for was far darker than whatever Remus was imagining, her brother did appear to at least be accepting her explanation. 

“Hermione, you’re not responsible for me. You know that, right?”

“Aren’t I though?”

“No, Hermione. You are not. I know you want to help, and I appreciate it, I do. But you’re not responsible for me, or anyone else, the only person you are responsible for is yourself. And I know things aren’t looking great right now, but it's fine. We have plenty of time to work things out.” 

Remus’ words were more reassuring than he ever meant them to be. Hermione may have a near-impossible task ahead of her. And Remus may never know how wrong he was about her being responsible for anyone but herself, but he was right in that she still has time to work it out. Five years. She gave herself five years to defeat him, and even if she had no real idea of what to do right now, she had plenty of time to come up with a plan.

Reassured by their conversation Hermione continued, 

“You’re right. There’s plenty of time, and honestly, I think I was just getting myself worked up. Madam Pomfrey wasn’t wrong in her assumption I may have gone a little overboard with the studying either.”

Remus chuckled at that, nodding his agreement, 

“Oh Mini, I don’t think there was ever any doubt about that.” Slapping him gently for using her most hated nickname Hermione whined at him, 

“Don’t call me that. You know I hate it.” 

“Oh I know,” Remus replied, heading towards the door, the conversation for the night clearly over. “Why do you think I get so much joy out of it?” Grumbling Hermione told him to turn out the lights while lying down to sleep and then realised he’d left without closing the door. Arse. 

* * *

Following their conversation, Hermione spent the first few days of the holidays lounging around the cottage with her brother. Their parents had already returned to work, and so the two spent the days reading quietly in each other’s company. There wasn’t much else to do. Hermione could already tell Remus was growing restless and sure enough, he announced his departure to the Potter’s soon after.

The boys’ always invited Hermione to join them. She suspected they felt guilty about leaving her alone all summer, but Hermione didn’t mind. She craved alone time far more than her brother and his outgoing friends. She also knew that, as kind as the offer was, they didn’t really want her there. They had their own bond, and Hermione’s presence protruded on it, too female, and too different for sixteen-year-old boys to really want to spend their whole summer with. She appreciated the offer all the same, though. 

Instead, Hermione usually spent her summers quietly around their home and the woods surrounding it. Enjoying the peace away from Hogwarts and the opportunity to read and research whatever caught her fancy without the distractions of school and classwork. It did get lonely sometimes, though. Her parents would be gone all day leaving Hermione totally alone most of the summer.

Still, she would never begrudge her brother for spending time with his friends. Remus had spent so much of his life believing anyone who knew about his lycanthropy would hate him immediately. So Hermione would happily be left behind for him to spend time with the friends who went to such lengths to fully embrace him. Still, Hermione mostly spent summers alone. This time was different though so Hemione waited for her friend to appear through the fireplace. For when she would finally have the chance to reveal what she now knew.

All-knowing as ever, Pandora appeared the first day Hermione was left alone. Sitting at their kitchen table, Hermione couldn’t help but think Pandora looked out of place, too polished for their somewhat shabby kitchen. She had never been to their house before. As close as they were, they had never spent time together over the summer. Their friendship relegated to the walls of Hogwarts. Everything had changed now, though. Hogwarts was no longer the safe-haven they’d believed it to be, and Hermione was different too. They both knew it. She was unsure of where to start though and decided on the easiest option. 

“You said I had changed. What did you mean?” 

Pandora stared back at her, eyes assessing, judging her but not in a way that felt oppressive, merely evaluating. After a moment she responded, 

“Something changed in you that night. When you went to sleep, you were Hermione Lupin as I have always known you, but upon waking, you were something more. I don’t know what happened, I don’t think I need to, but your role changed too. The part you are to play in everything. I don’t know what would have happened before, but it has definitely changed. The future weighs more heavily on you now.”

Pandora somehow knew both more and less than Hermione expected. She was not wrong that the future was weighing on her. It felt like the lives of every one of her friends were relying on her since she had woken up that morning. Not just the people alive now, but everyone from her past; Harry, Ron, Ginny, Neville, everyone. An entire future resting on her shoulders, and the memories she was finally accepting as her own.

Thinking of yourself in dualities made for a confusing existence, and as strangely muted as it seemed she couldn't deny there was a part of her that was Hermione Granger. She had a slowly fading scar in the shape of the rebirth rune atop her left breast to show that much. So instead of questioning how Pandora knew what she did and what precisely she meant in her vague reply, Hermione willed herself to explain as much as she could. 

“You’re right. I’m not just myself anymore, something did change. I don’t know what you mean by the role I’ve got to play, but I’ve learnt things. Horrible things that I’m determined to stop happening, but I don’t know how to start. I will stop them though, how could I not, I can’t let what I know of the future happen.”

“Yes, the future is weighing on you, but not in the way you are thinking. You believe the weight is what you know of the future, your fear of it. What I mean is that the choices you will make are changing and did change drastically that night, even if you yourself didn’t realise it. It is your choices that the future is weighing on. Some things will stay the same, some will change, it all depends on the decisions you make. You have no predetermined role.”

It was a cryptic explanation, but it was the only one Hermione was going to get. It did offer some reassurance though, that she could change things. That she wasn't just on a path to watch things play over in real-time. Rather than probing further into what Pandora knew, she instead turned her attention to coming up with what she was thinking of as The Plan.

“Pandora, you accepted that I didn’t want to talk at Hogwarts without question. Do you know why I didn’t want to talk there?”

“I have my suspicions, but I don’t know all your reasoning, I’m here now though.”

“Yes. But Pandora, what I know is dangerous, and I’m sorry to have to do this, but I promise I’d ask it of anyone. I need you to swear on your magic that you will reveal nothing of what you learn to anyone without my express permission. I’m sorry. I know it’s a lot to ask, but I have to. “

“Hermione, _I know_. I know you have to ask. I may not know exact details right now, but I know what you’ve learnt is important. So I, Pandora Malfoy, swear on my magic to never reveal what I learn to another soul without permission from Hermione Lupin, and to aid her as best I can in any of her endeavours. I so swear.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW - slight mention of self harm but apart from that nothing really


	4. The Summer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So clearly my plan to update every Sunday went kind of out the window - although to be fair - time lost all meaning somewhere around my 50th consecutive hour of watching MSNBC last week (I love Steve Kornacki now - Sirius maybe have been replaced lol) - I also spent all of Sunday thinking it was Saturday and that was only the start of my problems when I realised I had a term paper due Tuesday. So its been a wild week.  
> BUT IM BACK - honestly not totally happy with this chapter but kinda at that place where I'm not gonna be able to move past it if I dont just go for it so here were are.

**Summer 1976**

Magic tingled in the air around them as Pandora finished her vow. It was more than Hermione had asked for. To promise her aid was another thing entirely to knowing what Hermione knew, but she was relieved too. She was not alone in this. 

Hermione didn't understand why it felt like telling Pandora was acceptable. Not when she knew she would tell no one else for as long as possible. But she supposed she had always been part of something more than just herself. She has been Harry and Ron’s, and then Remus’ but they could have no role in this. So instead there is her and Pandora. The two of them sharing their respective burdens and it was with that reassurance that Hermione started telling her everything that she knew. 

“You’ve heard whisperings of a rising dark lord the same as I have. Probably more considering who your father is. He’s charming and compelling, and so much worse than his followers could ever imagine. The things he’s done already are deplorable but the things he will do are almost unspeakable.”

Pandora said nothing. Just stared at Hermione contemplatively, prompting her to continue, 

“He’ll stay hidden in the shadows for now, but there is a war coming, and he’ll rip everything apart; families, friendships, lives, almost nothing will survive. And for all, he spouts his desire for a ‘pure’ magical Britain his actual goals go beyond the laws of magic itself. He wants power. Absolute power, and a promise that it, that _he_ , will never end.”

“You mean a Horcrux.” 

Hermione was genuinely stunned when her friend said it. Even though she was right, Hermione had never expected Pandora to know of a piece of magic as dark as that. She sometimes forgot that for all her friend was different that her family she was still raised a Malfoy. And while perhaps not as nuanced in their knowledge as a family like the Blacks the Malfoy’s were no stranger to the Dark Arts. Especially with Abraxas Malfoy as their Head. A man known for being an early and loyal follower of Voldemort even in Hermione’s other memories.

So perhaps it was not as surprising as Hermione felt it was that Pandora knew what they are talking about. Even still, she could only imagine splitting the soul once. It was Hermione who would have to break the truth of how depraved the man they are facing truly was to her closest friend. 

“Horcruxes.”

“ _Horcruxes_?”

“Yes. He plans to make six. Six. Plus, himself to make the magical number seven.” She didn't need to tell Pandora about Harry. That was something that would never happen. Even if she had to step in front of the Avada herself, nothing would ever happen to Harry. He felt like hers in the same way Remus was hers, even though she had never met him, and he wasn't born yet he was hers to protect.

Her friend was looking distinctly ill at the thought of making six horcruxes. Hermione couldn't blame her. The idea of making even one was enough to turn her stomach, but six was unthinkable. Having that little of your soul left within your body undoubtedly contributed to the insanity Hermione could remember seeing. She knew what being reincarnated from that sliver of soul had created but she didn't know what it looked like before October '81. She couldn't imagine he appeared sane though - if he ever even was. 

“I know what they are though.”

Pandora’s head jerked up at Hermione’s statement. A flash of realisation in her friend’s eyes as she understood the enormity of what Hermione was planning to do. That Hermione had every intention of hunting down and destroying the horcruxes as she had a lifetime ago. Not that her friend knew that detail. 

“He’s only made five at the moment. Or will only make five. There’s one I don’t know when he made, but I know when I will be able to find it. The others though, I know what he’s made, but I don’t know where most of them are. I do have theories or ideas of what to research. It’s not totally hopeless. We’re alone in this though. I didn’t want us talking about this at Hogwarts for obvious reasons, but there were other motivations there too.” 

Hermione didn't know how to say this part. That she didn't trust Dumbledore risked sounding like madness but she didn't, and she could only hope her friend agreed. 

“I can’t go to Dumbledore with this. I know he feels like the obvious option, and before all of this I would have agreed but we can’t. There are things about him that you don’t know and things that he’s willing to let happen that I am not.” 

Pandora’s face didn't change, and Hermione supposed this is yet another benefit of her friend’s upbringing. She doubts there were many tales of Dumbledore’s greatness in the Malfoy household. It certainly made her life easier. Her Gryffindor friends from both lives would never have heard her out while she was speaking her truths against Dumbledore. All of them too caught up in his cult of personality around defeating Grindelwald and being the ‘Leader of Light’ to question any of what Hermione said. So, she was thankful for the quiet thoughtfulness of her friend. Emboldened she continued,

“Dumbledore will place far too much faith in prophecies and his own cleverness, and it won’t work. Besides, he is far too willing to sacrifice things for his ‘Greater Good.’ And while I understand sacrifices will come, I will not let him rationalise things away for what he thinks is best. I plan to do this alone. You don’t have to help me. I know it seems impossible, and I won’t begrudge you if you want to leave today and never talk of this again, but I am going to do it either way.”

Hermione didn't need verbal confirmation to know that her friend was going to agree. Pandora’s expression was enough for Hermione to tell that she was going to help her and she was honoured by the trust Pandora’s placed in her. That even knowing the lengths to which Tom Riddle had gone, she would still trust Hermione enough to not even argue with her over finding help. But then Hermione though of Luna. Luna, who was loyal enough she came along with them to the ministry at fourteen, even being the one who suggested riding thestrals to get there. Who had fought at Hogwarts with the rest of them, stunning Alecto Carrow for Harry, and Hermione understood. It was often the bravest who were overlooked. 

Her thoughts of Luna also raised questions, though. While Pandora wasn't on the best of terms with her family, Hermione certainly didn't think that things are so dire they would keep her daughter captive in their basement. She supposed it was one of the many things to come. Whatever finally prompted the break in the Malfoy family tree. She was sure of one thing, though, Luna would grow up with her mother this time. Even if she had to personally ban her from experimenting Hermione would ensure her friend never had that fatal potions accident.

Hermione’s distraction had let a silence fall over them, but neither wanted to break it. There are details to work out and plans to make, but enough had been revealed today. Instead, they sat there in the quiet. Both contemplating the task that lay before them and eventually, Pandora got up to leave. They still didn't speak, but they both knew Pandora would return the next day, and Hermione would reveal more of the awful truths now known to her. They were in this together now. The two of them against the world, against one man truthfully but so many people who would aim to help would only hinder, and so it was the two of them alone. 

* * *

Pandora appeared most days throughout the summer. The two of them assessing what Hermione knew and realising it was not as much as it feels like. They knew there would be five of them and Hermione knew what they were, but that was the extent of her knowledge. 

The Diadem was the easiest, still hidden away in the Room of Requirement waiting for them to collect it. And then there was the Diary that they determined was most likely with Abraxas. Hermione knew Lucius had it in 1992, but she doubted Riddle handed a piece of his soul over to a twenty-year-old follower when his father was an option. It seemed far more likely that Riddle had entrusted one of his Horcruxes to Malfoy Snr. and Lucius had come into possession of it with his father’s death. 

Pandora also seemed doubtful of her brother’s involvement with the horcruxes, contrary to Hermione’s knowledge of the man. Still, Hermione didn’t question her about it. It couldn’t be easy learning the extent to which your family was willing to support a maniac. Besides, how well did she know Lucius Malfoy; she never interacted with him at Hogwarts, and the adult she had met was likely a very different man to who he was now, so Hermione didn’t comment on it. Pandora never questioned her Father’s involvement anyway, so they agreed the Diary was likely at Malfoy Manor regardless. 

Beyond that, Hermione knew little. The Cup may be in Gringotts, but Hermione prayed it wasn’t. There could be no bank heists in their future if they are going to do this as anonymously as they planned. They also felt it was more likely Bellatrix would keep it near, a ‘gift’ from her beloved Dark Lord likely not abandoned to her vault until times became more dire. 

Hermione’s knowledge of the Locket was even less. She didn’t know when it would be placed in the cave or if it had even been created yet. Only that there was a chance, Regulus Black would die trying to retrieve it sometime in 1979. That was another dilemma. How to stop Regulus from dying, but ensure that he would still make that choice. Have that realisation regarding what he was involved in. 

The time spent reading his diary had revealed a lot to Hermione. He wasn’t just going to suddenly oppose Riddle and his followers without the knowledge of the horcrux to trigger it, but he wasn’t entirely a lost cause either. The Regulus she had read about wasn’t questioning his views; instead, he was concerned with other things. The diary mainly spoke of the pressures he was facing at home, how Sirius leaving had shifted all of the attention onto him. He may not face the same perils Sirius had in Number 12, but he certainly wasn’t safe there. Expected to restore the family’s honour after losing both Sirius and Andromeda, his mother expecting perfection from her ‘perfect’ son.

Sirius leaving too had its own effects. Though their separate sortings had damaged their relationship, the diary made it clear he felt more alone than ever without Sirius at home. She would never have known without having read the diary, but even during their Hogwarts years, Sirius had still worked to defend his brother while they together at home.

It felt strangely intrusive knowing that. Not so much to Regulus, who she didn’t really know, but to Sirius, who had hidden this from them. She knew things were bad in the Ancient and Noble House of Black. She had heard about the state he’d arrived at the Potter’s last Christmas. But nowing that even as Sirius had proudly displayed his hatred of the Slytherins, that things were different at home, exposed a part of him that she knew he would have never consented to.

It did give her some hope though. That maybe Regulus didn’t have to die. She wouldn’t try and get him to denounce the bigotry he’d grown up learning. She knew that wouldn’t work, but maybe, with enough work and patience, they could get Regulus to turn to her when he finally chose to defy Tom Riddle. Hermione hated that she was letting him become a Death Eater, but she didn’t know how to help him otherwise. The thought she was sacrificing him made her feel sick, but, if everything worked out, he would probably be her best chance at getting to the locket. 

The Ring was the horcrux that was most elusive. She only knew what she had been told by Harry, and he only knew what Dumbledore had deemed him worthy of knowing. That Tom Riddle’s family ring had been a horcrux, that it nearly killed Dumbledore, and that it had been destroyed before they ever started their hunt. It wasn’t much to work with, but it was all they had, so they agreed they would look into Riddle’s past and find answers there. It had worked for Dumbledore after all. 

They would have to be careful about it, though. Not to attract the attention of Riddle himself or invite questions from Dumbledore. It was Dumbledore Hermione was most concerned about. Riddle wouldn’t blink twice at some little half-blood and Pandora likely only held any interest in regards to her father. Dumbledore though, he would be watching, searching for recruits to his army. 

Hermione had no intentions of joining the Order. She had already died for them once. And she doubted Dumbledore would be able to look past Pandora’s family without her being disowned in the same way Sirius was. Still, they would have to be careful, Hermione could only guess the extents to which Dumbledore would go if he thought it would give him an advantage against Riddle. She hoped her Ravenclaw sorting would allow her to be overlooked, the Order preferring to recruit their fellow Gryffindors but knew her closeness with the Marauders would make her a likely candidate. Somehow, she would have to avoid Dumbledore learning more about her plans and find some reason for her not becoming a member without drawing suspicions. 

* * *

While she and Pandora had spent time planning Remus had spent most of the summer at the Potters; only coming home for the two full moons. Hermione was, therefore, surprised when he came tumbling through the fireplace early one morning towards the end of the break. 

Their parents had already left for the day, but it was still early enough Hermione was eating breakfast in her pyjamas when he arrived, so she wasn’t thrilled when James and Sirius came pouring out after him. 

“Hermione! Hermione, they’re here!” 

Hermione frowned at her brother’s exclamation while trying to find something to cover herself with. If it had just been Remus she wouldn’t have bothered, but it had been a warm night, and she wasn’t overly keen on spending the rest of this conversation in her shorties. 

“What are here, Remus? Why are you all here so early?”

“Our OWL results. Have you not got yours yet? They sent mine to the Potter’s. I guess they knew I was there.” 

Truthfully, Hermione had forgotten entirely about OWLs. Concerns over exam results were placed firmly on the backburner when you spent your days determining how to defeat a dark wizard. Still, she guessed it would seem out of place if the girl who started the summer with magical exhaustion from over-studying wasn’t concerned. 

“What do you mean you’ve got yours? I haven’t had anything!” 

It was James who replied to Hermione’s somewhat shrill questioning, “They were delivered while we were having breakfast. You sure you haven’t had the post yet?”

“Of course, I’m sure. Oh, Merlin, what do you think it means? Do you think I failed?” 

“Ha! Looks like you were right Prongs, Mini’s coming totally unglued, and her results aren’t even here yet.” 

“And what exactly is that supposed to mean Sirius Black?” Hermione cut in before James got a chance to respond. She was overreacting and was actually fairly confident in her results. She didn’t know if she would receive straight O’s, but she certainly hadn’t failed. Still, it was amusing to watch Sirius backtrack at her raised eyebrow. 

“Only that when we got our results Moony was wondering how you had done, and Prongs said it might be nice to find out in person after the whole hospital wing incident? Have I mentioned the pyjamas are adorable? Ow! Bugger! Remus what was that for?!”

“No commenting on my sister's sleepwear,” Remus replied unrepentant for the knock on the head he’d just given his friend, “Anyway I’m sure they’ll be here soon, the owls probably just slow or something. Besides, Mrs P. wanted us to tell you we’re going to Diagon on the 26th and she’d like you to join us. Something about the rest of us being more bearable when she has some support.” 

Hermione was always invited to the annual Diagon Alley trip. She and Dorea Potter had a strange relationship primarily based around a couple of summers after Hogwarts that Hermione spent at the Potter’s. Even as twelve-year-olds, the boys hadn’t wanted to spent time around their friend’s sister with other far more exciting things taking precedence. Instead, Hermione had spent time in their library or sharing her exasperation at the boys with Mrs Potter, and the two of them had grown somewhat close.

“Hmm, and I’m sure you’re not just including yourself in that for the sake of politeness.” Hermione grinned, “Where’s Pettigrew anyway? Shouldn’t he be tagging along with the rest of you?” 

“Firstly, I resent the implication I am anything other than my mother’s favourite child. If any of us would not be included in the list of things she needs help bearing, clearly it would be me,” James began. “Secondly, Peter is visiting his mother. She’s been sick a lot, and he’s at home. But yes, Diagon, Mum expects you there.”

During all this Remus was proven correct. An owl had appeared with a letter bearing the tell-tale Hogwarts crest, and Hermione’s previously absent nerves were upon her. 

“Oh no, really, what if I have failed? What will I do?”

“Hermione,” her brother replied, handing over the letter. “You know you’re just panicking yourself; you’ll have done fine.”

Nodding, Hermione opened the letter and felt relief wash over her. 

“Well then little Lupin, did you live up to Moony’s standards, was the magical exhaustion worth it, what you get?”

“Yes Sirius, the studying was worth it.” 

“Quit being modest,” he replied, snatching the letter out of her hands, “Ah yes, Truly Moony’s other half, 8 O’s and an E in History of Magic and it’s not like anyone counts that anyway. Well done Mini, you too, are a massive fucking nerd.” 

“Rude. Dare I ask what you got?”

“I’ll have you know that while I may not have received the same string of O’s as you and your brother, I got a perfectly respectable spread of O’s and E’s and a D in History of Magic, but really that one’s on Binns, you can’t blame me for that.”

That was fair. She really couldn’t, Binns’ class was enough to send anyone to sleep so instead Hermione just replied,

“Well done then Sirius, I’m sure you all did brilliantly.”

“Yes, yes, we all did marvellously, we’re all geniuses. Mini, we have to run but, you are expected at Diagon on the 26th, 11AM remember. My mother will be very disappointed if you aren’t there.”

“I know James, thank you. See you boys in a couple of days. Try not to get into too much trouble between then and now.” 

“Not likely,” Remus snorted, “You’re good here, right? You don’t want to come with us? You can if you want to, but we’re not doing all that much.” 

“No Remus, I’m okay here, just going to enjoy the end of the summer in peace I doubt I’ll find with you lot. Now off with you all, you’ve disturbed my breakfast enough.” 

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW - None that I can think of but as always lmk if you think I should add any


	5. The Truce

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> heyy !!  
> so i went hella heavy with the dialgoue this chappy - one day i'll write a chapter that isn't like all prose or all dialogue but today not that day  
> but until then hope you enjoy todays chappy - thank you!!

**August 1976**

Diagon Alley was alive with activity when Hermione arrived. She was unsurprised. It always was the week before Hogwarts started back up for the year. Truthfully, Hermione didn’t even need to be there. She’d already done her back to school shopping when she’d first got her list, but the boys had made it clear Dorea was expecting to see her, so Hermione came when summoned. 

Despite arriving exactly at 11 as instructed, it was only Dorea that Hermione found waiting for her. With a questioning look on her face, she greeted the older woman warmly before Dorea explained where the boys had disappeared too.

“They all ran to the Quidditch shop as soon as we arrived. I think James has some great plan for this year’s cup.” Already pitying the Gryffindor quidditch team for the year they had ahead of them, Hermione chuckled and nodded. 

“Yes, the promise new brooms always does seem to sweeten a shopping trip for them. Anyway, how are you, Mrs P.? How was your summer?” 

“As uneventful as possible with those three in my house dear. It would have been lovely to see more of you, though. You know you’re always welcome,” Dorea replied softly. That was true, Hermione did always feel welcome at the Potters, even when the boys had unintentionally ignored her when she was younger, she had never felt unwelcome. 

“I know, thank you. Honestly, I just needed a bit of a break from the madness. I love them, I do, but even from another house they manage to reap havoc on me every year.” 

Dorea laughed replying, “Yes, they are rather uniquely qualified at creating chaos. How did your OWLs go though, I’ve only heard good things from the boys.” 

“They went well, thank you. I’m looking forwards to NEWTS now, though I am taking six which may be madness.” As Hermione was speaking, the voice of James Potter called over the sea of people in Diagon Alley.

“EVANS! You’re looking radiant as ever.” 

Lily Evans did not look pleased to be the subject of such a spectacle. A large crowd of people turned to look in her direction while she flushed with anger before turning on her heel and marching away. Despite this, James looked thrilled just to have seen the girl, grinning dumbly from his place beside Sirius. 

Next to her, Dorea looked shocked, “What on earth was that about? I thought they hated each other.” 

Hermione wasn’t entirely sure when James had gone from thinking Lily was a stuck up teacher’s pet to the future Mrs Potter, but it had been a rather sudden development in the past year. For their first four years at Hogwarts, James and Lily had been stuck in a kind of antagonistic relationship. James believed Lily had betrayed their house, due to her friendship with Severus Snape and Lily thought that James was an arrogant bully. 

It had, therefore, been a rather large surprise when James rapidly changed his tone from declaring Lily his ‘least favourite Gryffindor’ to reciting muggle sonnets to the girl over breakfast. Had it not been for Lily’s complete abhorrence of the situation, Hermione would have thought James was under the influence of a love potion. Instead, it merely seemed James had woken up one morning and decided Lily held all the traits of his future bride. Although, looking back now, Hermione did wonder how much their first four years was simple pigtail pulling before James decided to try another, more direct, approach. 

Still, she was surprised this was first Dorea was hearing of it. She was sure that the rest of the boys would have been thrilled to inform his parents of James’s sudden infatuation. Briefly explaining the situation, Hermione was relieved to see Dorea looked amused more than anything before clarifying, 

“So, James’ current approach is to pester the girl and hope she gives in?” 

“It does seem that way, yes,” Hermione agreed, before continuing, “Though it’s mainly resulted in him being hexed so far. I really must give Evans respect for her creativity; she rarely uses the same one twice.” 

This time Dorea actually laughed, raising an eyebrow while responding "Perhaps a well-meaning friend could suggest another approach to wooing his beloved?”

Hermione thought about it for a moment. She knew they would eventually end up together, and by all accounts, they would be madly in love. She also knew that they would _need_ to be together for Harry to be born and that Harry _had_ to exist for it all to be worth it; so maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad thing for her to encourage the two together. 

“Perhaps,” Hermione agreed, abandoning Dorea to take up her suggestion. 

Making her way over to the boys, Hermione was greeted by a loud cry of “Mini!” Cringing at the nickname, she nevertheless replied, 

“Boys, how are you all?” 

“We, little Lupin, are excellent,” Sirius started, “how about you? How have you coped without seeing me?” He always was somewhat cocky, and Hermione took personal pleasure in ensuring his head never got too big. 

“Perfectly well thank you, Sirius. Remus, Mum and Dad want to know if you’re spending the rest the holiday at the Potter’s or if you’re coming back for a couple of days first?” 

At this Remus looked faintly guilty, he always did when he thought he was abandoning Hermione, but she knew by the look on his face he was hoping to stay. 

“It doesn’t really make a difference to me.” Hermione continued to reassure him she would be okay left alone in their cottage. “I’m going to be getting a head start reviewing our NEWT work.” 

That was a lie. In fact, Hermione was fairly confident this year would be one of her easiest yet. While she had never been a slacker, she now had the additional advantage of feeling like she had already taken the first year of the NEWTs and Hermione Granger had extremely thorough when it came to learning the material. So, even though, those memories felt somewhat foggy, Hermione was still confident in her grades for the upcoming year. 

It did, however, seem to have had the desired effect and Remus accepted he would be staying with the Potters until the end of summer. Having determined that much Hermione moved onto the main reason she’d left Dorea. 

“Excellent. I need to talk to James. Alone. Everything’s fine. I promise. I’d just like to talk to him. The two of you can go and get whatever supplies you still need to get while James and I go to Fortescue’s.” 

Looking slightly bemused at having been given such direct orders Remus and Sirius disappeared down the road while she and James made their way to the ice cream parlour. It wasn’t until they were sitting over their respective scoops that Hermione finally started talking. Deciding it was best to take the direct Gryffindor approach she blurted out,

“Lily Evans? What’s going on there?”

James choked on his ice cream, and his face went red. “W..what? Nothing! Nothing’s going on with Evans.” 

“Oh no - I am aware that nothing is currently happening between you and Evans. That was made quite clear by your little display on the street” Hermione snorted, “I’m just curious as to what caused the sudden desire to spout Shakespeare at the breakfast table. You never really explained the sudden change of opinion. Or is it just another way to get a raise out of her?” 

“No!” James replied shamefaced. “ I don’t know. I guess I just realised that for all she’s a swotty little teacher’s pet, she’s actually wicked smart and kind of keeps me on my toes. Plus. she is beautiful.” 

Hermione smiled at this. Somewhat surprised James had opened up so easily. It usually took a lot more needling on her part to get the boys to confess to whatever was bothering them. She was happy with his answer too, though; it did seem that James genuinely liked Lily and wasn’t just finding a new way to annoy her. 

Thankful, Hermione continued, “Okay, so you actually like her.” 

“Yes.” James reluctantly agreed, “but she doesn’t believe me!” 

At this, Hermione took a deep breath, forever cursing the obtuseness of teenage boys. 

“James, have you, or have you not, spent the past four years teasing her and telling her she’s ‘betraying’ her house, because of who she chose to spend time with, only to turn around and suddenly start asking her to Hogsmede?” 

“Maybe,” he grumbled, “but what was I supposed to do?” 

“Have you considered that she doesn’t think you’re serious,” Hermione sighed, “and don’t you dare make a Sirius joke right now.” 

“Fine. There is a chance, Evans may think my invites to Hogsmede were not given with the right intentions.” James replied, looking as though it pained him to admit it. 

“Okay,” Hermione chuckled, “may I make a suggestion as someone who likely has more experience dealing with girls than you?”

“Sure, whatever.” 

“Maybe try and be her friend first? Show her that you aren’t just trying to make a fool out of her. You do remember what happened at the end of last term, right?” asked Hermione, now deadly serious and raising an eyebrow in an attempt to convey her meaning. 

“You mean with Snivellus” James all but growled. 

“Yes, I mean with _Snape_ ,” Hermione replied, stressing the word, “I don’t know exactly what happened that day, and quite frankly I don’t want to. I don’t need to know who started it or anything because I already know that the main person who got hurt in that fight was Lily.” 

James was looking distressed at this proclamation. Hermione doubted he had put too much thought into it before now. Not for malicious reasons but only because it hadn’t occurred to him the depth of the damage that was done that day. 

“Just try and imagine it from Lily’s perspective for a minute,” Hermione continued, “You’re eleven. You’ve suddenly been told you’re different from the rest of your family and you’re going away to boarding school. You don’t know anything about that world, and you don’t really know anyone in it. Just imagine how terrifying that must have been for her. 

“But, you also find out your best friend is going to that school too. And he can explain the things you don’t know, and he’s someone you’ll be able to talk to even if you don’t know anyone else. Of course, she was going to cling to Snape, and that’s not to suggest that Evans needs anyone to protect her, certainly not now, but way back in first year when you decided she was ‘betraying’ her house for being friends with Snape. Can you imagine if someone had said that to me about spending time with Remus?” 

“Fuucckk, Hermione, I’ve been an arse haven’t I.” 

“Maybe a bit, but that’s not really what I was talking about. Most of that happened when you were younger, right? A little boy’s mistakes.” Hermione paused before continuing to what was actually her point, “But through all this time, Evans stuck with Snape. I mean she has friends in Gryffindor, I know she does, she friend’s with Remus for Merlin’s sake. But she still stuck with Snape, even as you were giving her grief over it. 

“But then, all of a sudden, the boy who had been her introduction to this world, her support through it, has suddenly gone and called her the very thing that excludes her from it - basically leaving her with no place. Because she doesn’t belong in the muggle world anymore and that person who introduced her to this one has just made it abundantly clear she doesn’t belong here either. 

“And the supposed reason her best friend has abandoned her, that same little boy who said she shouldn’t be friends with the one person she knew. That boy who teased her for her eagerness to learn about this new world she found herself in, and who is now flirting with her as her very world falls apart.” 

James sat there in stunned silence. Hermione felt somewhat guilty for dropping all this on him at once, but he needed to learn. Looking at him, she could tell he had never thought of it like this before and was now ashamed to realise what he had done. Just as she had suspected, he was never ill-intentioned; he was just a privileged little boy who rarely saw the world from someone else’s perspective. 

“I’m not excusing Snape. He is equally to blame.” Hermione continued, “If he was truly Evans’ friend, that word would never have been in his vocabulary to allow it to slip out. I’m just trying to explain why maybe holding back on the flirting a bit this year is a good idea. Show Evans that you aren’t trying to humiliate her in the same way she was just months ago. “

James had finally collected his thoughts enough to reply, “You’re right. I’ve been an arse to Lily. I had personal issues with Snape, and I took them out on her. But I don’t know what to do now because I do like her, and even if I didn’t, I’d want to make it right.” 

And that was what Hermione loved most about the Potter boys, their constant desire to do the best they could for those around them, to do the right thing, so she replied, 

“Honestly, I’d try apologising sincerely for what happened and that she was caught up in it. That you should never have been fighting in the first place. And then I’d give her some space. Let Evans see that you have moved past the little boy that you were. If it’s meant to happen, then it will, but for now, just try and relax. Maybe work on being friends once you’ve given her time to realise your serious.” 

* * *

James Potter was a man on a mission. He had spent the days following his conversation with Hermione ruminating on her words, and they had opened his eyes to many things. 

Looking back through his years at Hogwarts James realised he had often felt righteous in his actions based solely on the fact he was in Gryffindor and upon further reflection, there were several incidences that he was ashamed of. The incident after the DADA OWL was the worst though. It should never have happened. James knew the Slytherin’s gave as good as they got when it came to the occasional skirmishes they fell into. Still, that particular incident had been based on boredom, and boredom alone. 

With that in mind, he was now searching his way through the Hogwarts Express in an attempt to find Lily. He doubted she would be pleased to see him. Honestly, there was only a slim chance she would even agree to talk to him, but he had to take that chance because, through all the time he had spent thinking over his years at Hogwarts, his desire for Lily Evans did not lessen. 

Instead, he was focusing trying to take Hermione’s advice and show her that he was growing up. James knew he couldn’t change his whole personality, and certainly not that of his friends, but he could try and make a difference, and that was something. 

Finally, having spotted her, James called out a relatively restrained, “Evans!” 

As expected, Lily did not look pleased to see him, but her face did not show the same kind of fury he had grown to expect from her. Instead, she just looked kind of tired. 

“What, Potter?” Lily sighed, clearly expecting a fight of some description. 

“Uhhh, do you have a minute?” James replied, ensuring his tone remained as even as possible, he didn’t want to blow the chance to talk to her before it had even begun. 

“What do you want?”

“Uhhh, basically, I know you said you didn’t want to hear it, but I just wanted to tell you that I know the fight in May was wrong… “

“Potter…” 

“... No, please, just give me a minute. The fight was wrong, we should never have gotten involved, and if I thought he would hear me out, I would go and apologise to Snape too. But I think we both know he won’t let me, so the best I can do is apologise to you, and say I’m sorry for dragging you into it. It should never have happened in the first place, and I certainly shouldn’t have tried to get you involved too. 

“I’m sorry about the rest of the term as well. I’ll leave you alone this year, I promise. No random asking you out, no nothing, just two housemates, that’s it.” 

“Seriously, Potter,” Lily began sound frustrated but also somewhat defeated, “ You expect me to fall for that. As if you and your little mates aren’t already planning some ridiculous prank already.”

“Okay, so, I can neither confirm nor deny if we’re planning something,” James replied smirking slightly “especially not to a prefect, but even if we are I promise, no more pranks targeted against the Slytherins or any one particular person. Everyone’s an equal opportunity prankee, yeah?” 

Lily sighed in mild exasperation “I mean it’s not ideal, but I guess it’s the best I’ll get.”

“Yeah, it probably is,” James replied with a chuckle, “soo, truce?” 

Looking like she was about to make a deal with the devil himself, Lily nodded, “Truce, but it depends on you keeping your word. No more asking me out randomly, no more horrible jokes against people, nothing.” 

“Hey, I agreed didn’t I.” James responded, “Well then that’s pretty much everything Evans, so, see you around, I guess.” 

As James walked away, he felt a small sense of triumph. Evans had heard him out, and maybe just maybe things could begin looking up from here. Lily, on the other hand, had never felt more confused in her life and found herself waiting for the other shoe to drop. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay so i know mentioned im switching some things up from canon - lily and james younger years are kinda changed from that or well not really  
> we obviously never hear much about their younger years but a lot of people think james was like in love with lily from the get go and dont get me wrong i love that - but i wanted them to have been a little more like ron and hermione when they were younger - i just wanted a little more tension i think - rather than just james being like i love you and lily being like nooo lol  
> anyways thanks again if you read all of this because wow good on you <3
> 
> TW: none that I can think of <3


	6. The Agreement

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> heyy!  
> happy sunday - hope everyones weekend went well! ty for the comments - they really make my day and im so glad you guys liked the hermione-james interaction. like i said - he's not a bad person, he's not malicious or anything - he's 16 and everyones stupid at that age but theyre getting better lol

**September 1976**

Hermione waited to seek him out. She had to be sure they wouldn’t be interrupted; she couldn’t risk the others finding out, not yet at least. So, she waited until James was off looking for Lily, Remus was patrolling, and Peter had disappeared to find the food trolley, and then finally tracked down Sirius. 

Luckily, he was alone in the compartment when she found him. An unusual sight for sure, the Marauders were rarely alone after all, but still she was relieved. This was yet another conversation that had to happen alone, and so she quietly entered the cabin, pulling out her wand, whispering, 

“ _Colloportus. Muffliato.”_ Finally casting a Notice-Me-Not over the entrance to ensure no one took the locked door as an invitation Hermione turned to face Sirius who was looking at her with a quirked eyebrow. 

“Well, I can’t say I’m not flattered, Mini. My reputation must precede me, but, I really must insist on dinner first” he said, smirking.

“Ugh, shut up, you great prat. That’s not why I’m here, and you know it.” Even as she denied it, Hermione felt a blush rising on her cheeks. She had not considered how it might look inviting herself into his cabin, but she now found herself somewhat flustered. 

“Ouch. Well, if it’s not to take advantage of me, then what possible reason could you have for all the secrecy?” Irritatingly, Sirius remained perfectly calm, although his eyes did gleam with interest even after she had denied seeking him out for an illicit rendezvous. 

Hermione hadn’t thought about this part of her plan, actually getting Sirius to agree to what she was about to propose. Now that she was here, it seemed increasingly unlikely he would go for it, but, she didn’t have anything else in the way of options, and she _needed_ to do this. 

“I need your help with something.”

Sirius said nothing, merely looked at her assessingly before nodding for Hermione to continue, “I know you’re an Animagus.” 

Eyes narrowing Sirius finally spoke, “Am I now?” 

“Yes. A dog if I’m not mistaken.” She knew she wasn’t, and Sirius looked increasingly uncomfortable with the conversation. “You all are, well, except for my brother, of course.”

“Let’s say I am - how would you have come to that conclusion?” Sirius asked, suddenly more sombre than she had seen him in a long time. Of course, they both knew about Remus’s lycanthropy, so that wasn’t the secret they were hiding. Even still, being an unregistered animagus could earn you a trip to Azkaban, so while Hermione knowing may not be important in the grand scheme of things, if she had somehow found out that meant others could too. 

“Seriously, Sirius,” Hermione started, and his lips twitched in response, “My brother suddenly is having miraculously easier moons than ever, you and James show up covered in bruises whenever there _is_ a full moon, and you start calling each other ‘Padfoot’ and ‘Prongs.’ It really wasn’t that difficult to put the pieces together. 

Of course, she had a little help in doing so, but he didn’t need to know that. It wasn’t like anyone else knew about Remus’s condition, and that would play a significant role in discovering the truth, so Hermione was confident there was no cause for concern. 

“Also, Remus accidentally let slip the first morning after you had been there for him.” At this, Sirius’ eyebrows shot up.

“Moony ratted us out!?” 

“Of course not!” Hermione snapped, unable to control the anger in her regarding rats of this particular nature, “Remus would _never_ betray you like that, and you know it. He didn’t actually tell me anyway. I just overheard some confused muttering when he came back to the hospital wing. I didn’t even know what he was talking about at first.”

“Okay, so say we are Animagi. What are you planning on doing with that information, because right now you’re feeling very Slytherin, Little Birdy.” 

At this, Hermione sighed. The conversation had gone entirely off track. It was never meant to be confrontational, and she certainly had no intention of blackmailing him in the way Sirius seemed to be implying. 

“Little Birdy?” Hermione asked instead, grimacing slightly. Of all the names he’d given her this was by far the worst. 

“Not my best, I’ll admit. Accurate, though, little ‘claw.” 

“No - I am drawing the line at Little Birdy. Never again. And I’m not trying to blackmail you anyway, Merlin, is that really what you think of me?”

“You know it’s not Mini, but I still don’t know where this conversation is going.” 

“Don’t you?” Hermione smiled sheepishly at him, “No ideas what help I could possibly need in regards to you being an animagus?”

“No.” Sirius replied, all traces of amusement draining from his face. 

“Yes.” Hermione nodded, “I want you to help me become an animagi too.” 

“No way, Remus would skin me and use Padfoot as a rug. He barely lets us come with him, no way in hell he’d ever let you join.” 

“I know. I know Remus won’t let me come with you, but I just … I feel like I need to be able to do this, just in case. What happens if you boys can’t be there for him or, or I don’t know. I just, I need to be able to do this.” Hermione purposefully let anxiety flood across her face.

She wasn’t typically one to try and use her emotions against the boys like this but, she also knew for all they enjoyed riling her up, none of them liked to see her genuinely upset. She could only hope it would make Sirius more sympathetic to her pleas. 

“Hermione,” Sirius sighed, “nothing’s going to happen, I promise.”

“No, Sirius, that’s the thing, you can’t promise. We don’t know what’s coming, and I can’t go back to watching my brother suffering like that. Please?” she actually was pleading now, the thought of Remus going back to enduring full moons alone making her desperate. 

“Why me?” he finally asked in a tone of resigned acceptance, “Why ask me to help rather than Prongs?” 

Hermione wasn’t sure how to answer this question. He deserved the truth, of course. She was keeping so many other secrets that he deserved this one truth. “We both know Remus would never want me even to attempt it, and he likely won’t be pleased when he finds out what I’ve done.” 

Sirius nodded as she continued, “If I asked James he’d feel obligated to tell him, you know he would. James would consider it betraying Remus’s trust if he didn’t tell him, but I _need_ to do this, and I thought you would be more willing to help me without informing him.” 

As hesitantly as she’d said it Sirius’s face still went dark, “And what, you think I’d be okay with betraying Remus’s trust?” he almost growled. 

“No! Of course not! The opposite.”

“What?”

“You would _never_ betray Remus. I know you wouldn’t. And that’s why you’ll help me. You understand why I’ve got to do this. And you know I’m going to do it anyway, so you’ll help me.” Sirius still didn’t look convinced by this explanation, so Hermione continued to explain.

“I know James would do anything to help Remus. But, we both know he wears rose-tinted glasses. He won’t help me because he refuses to accept that one day he may not be able to. But you don’t. You know that for all you think I’m worrying over nothing there is a chance you won’t always be able to be there for my brother. So you understand why I have to learn and that it's safer if you help me in case anything goes wrong.”

Throughout her speech, Sirius’ face slowly morphed back to acceptance. She knew he’d do it. Nothing she said has been a lie. James, brought up with two loving parents and wanting for nothing, would always struggle to see the shades of grey that existed in the world. It was why he failed to understand Lily clinging to her friendship with Snape, why he deemed all Slytherins evil based on their house association alone. He would grow in time, but for now, he would never be comfortable operating in the grey in the same way Hermione and Sirius would. 

Sirius, on the other hand, for all he hated his family and everything that they stood for, was intimately familiar with varying degrees of morality—exposed to too much too soon for the world to exist in the dualities it did for James Potter. 

Hermione too was familiar with the shades of grey. Though never having experienced what Sirius had in Grimmauld, she had grown up watching her brother suffer, her father’s cold distance to his son, knowing that children all too often paid for their parents' sins. Her other memories only furthered this, there had been no space for black and white in her past, and there would be none in the future. Besides, she had technically already delved to much darker depths than they were discussing today. 

Her explanation seemed to have convinced him and, although sounding somewhat resigned, Sirius eventually agreed, “Fine, Mini, fine. I’ll help you, but you’ll owe me.”

“I know I will. But, seriously, thank you.” Even as she said it, he was waving her off. 

“Yeah, yeah, you’ll owe me. Let’s just move past this mushy shit yeah - that’s the best thanks you can give me.” 

The conversation clearly over Hermione took down all the spells she had guarding the door. She could only imagine what the other Marauders would infer from them, and she was in no way ready to have that discussion with her brother. Not that it was even what was happening. 

Instead, she slipped out the cabin, determined to avoid any questions and enjoy some peace before they got to Hogwarts and the real work began. 

* * *

The first week of term passed quickly. It always did, settling back into Hogwarts, into the routine of classes and the general hubbub of the castle. The main change was a welcome one. While Gryffindors remained in their group dormitories through all seven years at Hogwarts, Ravenclaw tower instead had separate two-person rooms for their NEWT level students allowing them to study without the distraction of extra dormmates. 

For Hermione, this was ideal. As the outcasts of the tower, she and Pandora were placed together, giving them the privacy to work on their project with a few well-placed spells. They would never risk leaving anything where people could find it, they both knew the stakes were too high for that, but it was still convenient.

Nobody would consider anything unusual with two Ravenclaws holing up in their room to study. Besides, they were rarely bothered by the other Ravenclaws even while they were sharing their living space. Segregated to their own room, Hermione could almost guarantee they would rarely be disturbed. 

The only Ravenclaw who ever really took time to talk to them was Xenophilius Lovegood. Who, despite being in his final year, appeared whenever they were in the common room to gaze at Pandora in admiration and attempt to engage her in conversation regarding whichever magical creature they’d decided existed that day. 

It was a sweet relationship to watch unfold. Pandora clearly aware of Lovegood’s intentions but allowing him to build up the courage to ask in his own time. Thinking of Luna and Lovegood’s devotion to his daughter only added to Hermione’s support for the couple. Even if she suspected it was what would eventually lead to Pandora being shafted from her family tree. 

Sadly, for the seventh-year, she and Pandora spent the majority of time outside of their classes planning or sharing their usual table in the library. That itself was a deliberate choice, having decided in the privacy of their room that their efforts to befriend Regulus Black would have to be done cautiously. 

At first, she and Pandora would spend their time studying in the library so as not to alarm the quiet, studious boy with their sudden presence. From then onwards, it would be Pandora’s task to convince him. They had both agreed that Hermione’s half-blood status and friendship with his brother would only alienate him. But Pandora’s family name and pristine heritage would likely be the perfect in. Besides, she was his cousin by marriage now, why wouldn’t she seek him out?

Only once Pandora had his trust would they introduce the two and begin to show that when the time came Hermione, or more likely Pandora as a go between, would be the person he could reach out to when the time came for him to make the final decision.

It was a manipulative scheme, and they both knew it. Preying on the insecurities of a fifteen-year-old trying his best to do right by his family, Even more than that, it wasn’t guaranteed to work. They wouldn’t know if their efforts to save the younger Black amounted to anything until the final crucial moment.

Neither of them had been able to come up with any other options, though. So, they fell into the routine of classes and studying in the library that their plan demanded. But even that was quickly disrupted by the first full moon of the term.

Moons were a strange experience for Hermione; depending on the story they were telling that week she was often relegated to the Hospital Wing along with her brother. In their efforts to dispel any suspicions regarding Remus’s condition, they had two main groups of excuses. The times they claimed Remus was simply sick, Hermione could easily stay in classes with no one questioning anything. But, the months where he had to visit an ill relative or attend a funeral or whatever other excuses they fabricated, it would seem strange for Hermione to be left behind.

Instead, Hermione spent that time in the Hospital Wing along with her brother. She worked on the assignments for their classes or other personal projects, and over the past year had Madam Pomfrey begin teaching her some healing. Still, no matter how many times it happened, it was always a strange experience. 

Remus would spend his time resting or recuperating from his monthly ordeal while Hermione did trivial activities in the bay next to him; the whole time praying her brother wouldn’t suffer too badly. The boys did always visit at least. Usually to see Remus, plying him with Honeydukes and tales of their exploits but they always took the time to see her when she was stuck there too. 

She did appreciate it. The hours left alone in the hospital wing were often lonely. Especially when Madam Pomfrey was too busy to provide her with company, so when the boys showed up, rowdy as ever, with no regard for appropriate infirmary comportment it always brought a small smile to her face. 

They were discussing their next great prank. Some convoluted idea about a fake map leading to the Chamber of Secrets, when she heard him say it, 

“I sort of promised Evans we wouldn’t target the Slytherins specifically anymore.” 

“What?!” the other three Marauders exclaimed, heads turning in sync to stare at James. 

“Evans and I have come to an agreement that revolves around us not deliberately pranking the Slytherins, or anyone anymore.” Even as he says it James looks uneasy, “I didn’t say we’d stop altogether; she doesn’t expect that much - but I kind of promised no more picking on individuals?” 

From where she’s pretending to read, Hermione can see a variety of expressions on their faces. Peter looks, as ever, like he’s waiting for someone else to make a decision he can copy. Sirius, on the other hand, looks as if he’s debating whether this was a betrayal of their friendship or the best news he’s heard in a long time, but it is her brother who looks the most confused. 

“Lily’s talking to you again?” Remus finally asks, sounding genuinely baffled, “and you’ve reached some kind of agreement? Are you sure, because she swore to me she’d never talk to you again at the end of last term.” 

“Uhhh yeah - we’re talking, um, a conversation was had, a truce was struck?” For someone who had been there for said conversation James’ tone is questioning, “Look, remember at Diagon how Mini ordered you away and demanded we go for ice cream?”

Remus and Sirius nodded, while Peter’s confused expression remained. Clearly, no one had told him about the unusual events of that Diagon trip. Although, based on all of the boys’ faces, this was the first time they were hearing anything about it too. 

Still, she kept her gaze firmly on the book in front of her. She wanted no part in this discussion or her role in it, even if she was pleased to hear things we’re moving in a more positive direction for James and Lily. 

“Well turns out she hadn’t just picked me as the weakest link to buy her ice cream. She waited until we had our scoops and then proceeded to ream me out for basically every interaction I’ve ever had with Evans.”

Something about James’ blunt explanation of their conversation reminded the boys she was only a few feet away from them. And even though she attempted to remain focused on her book and not give in to their questioning stares, she soon found herself meeting their eyes. 

“Look - I never meant for that conversation to be me telling you off. I just thought you might appreciate an outsider's perspective on what happened that day and why Evans kept rejecting you.” 

They all begrudgingly accepted her explanation, so she continued, “Besides, it's working for you isn’t it. You apologised, and now the two of you are talking civilly for the first time in six years, aren’t you?”

James nodded once more, accepting her authority on the matter but not before explaining to the rest of the boys, “So we can’t target the Slytherin’s anymore. Because I can’t risk Evans going back to thinking I’m an arse. I do love the map idea though - if we play it right, it could be hilarious.” 

Serious discussion over for the afternoon the boys returned to their Chamber of Secrets based prank idea. If she had to guess, this would be one of her brother’s, just the right amount of understated humour that the other boys never seemed to achieve with their ideas. 

The idea did take on a rather different meaning knowing that the Chamber was real though. Hermione wasn’t worried about the prank, of course. It had taken a piece of Riddle’s soul and a parselmouth to find it last time, so she was confident that no matter how many people the boys managed to convince to go hunting for the Chamber it would not be found. 

It did raise other problems for her, though. While she still had rough ideas of where the horcruxes were, both she and Pandora had agreed to leave them in place until they had to move them. Hermione knew the dangers of being around them now, and that wasn’t an experience she ever wished to repeat, so despite being easily accessible, Ravenclaw’s diadem would remain in the Room of Hidden Things until the time she had no other choice but to remove it. 

It was destroying the horcruxes where the issues lay. Hermione knew how to destroy them this time. Basilisk venom was what she, Harry and Ron had used but she had no way to get it, the snake wasn’t dead yet, after all. 

Theoretically, the crow of a rooster should be enough to kill it, but Hermione wasn’t about to risk something going wrong and unleashing the beast onto the castle. It had caused enough damage the first time, and that was while someone was controlling it, so she dreaded to think of the possible repercussions of a wild basilisk. 

That also meant the sword of Gryffindor couldn’t be used to destroy them either. Without Harry having used it to kill said basilisk, it wouldn’t be imbued with the venom meaning it could no more destroy a horcrux than any other sword could.

Plus, she didn’t know if she could even use the blade here. She was a Ravenclaw after all, and though she may have been a Gryffindor previously she doubted it tied into this life. Besides, she had no way of accessing it, and she certainly wasn’t about to ask Dumbledore for the sorting hat to try and retrieve it. 

It left her with only one option. The one they had avoided last time as none of them knew how to control it. Fiendfyre. It had destroyed the Room of Requirement and almost killed them, but Hermione didn’t have any other options. Which was how she found herself here; studying the Dark Arts books Pandora had ‘borrowed’ from her father. 

For the second time in her life, Hermione found herself stuck reading through some Pureblood library’s academic offerings in the hopes of finding salvation. This time though, no one could find out what she was doing, so the books were charmed to look like extra Potions research knowing none of the boys would have any interest in it. 

Eventually, Madam Pomfrey reappeared, ushering the Marauders out of the Hospital Wing insisting that her brother needed rest. The rest of the boys left quickly but not before Sirius took the time to slip her a small package. 

In it - a single mandrake leaf. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: none <3


	7. An Invitation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi!!!  
> oh my gosh - thank you so much for all the lovely comments - my heart is so full and i smiled so much while reading them my face hurt 💖  
> quick note on the animagi transformation - im playing a little fast and loose with canon here but its okay we're making it up as we go
> 
> oh oh also - i have a pinterest mood board kinda situation for this if any of y'all are interested https://pin.it/3hOsDZj i just has like pics of what i think they look like, and general vibes but just in case any of u want to know who im picturing etc

**Autumn 1976**

Following her brother's monthly stay in the Hospital Wing, Hermione was free to return to her usual routine with Pandora. The boys meanwhile were swiftly assigned detention after no less than 11 of the younger years were caught attempting to break into Professor Slughorn’s personal quarters while following a map to the _Chamber of Secrets._ Professor Flitwick, however, did award them each five house points for ‘impressive use of charm work’ in regards to the map they had provided. 

Otherwise, Hermione’s return to classes was uneventful except for the newly placed mandrake leaf stuck to the roof of her mouth. It was an unpleasant experience. The leaf was somehow both waxy and oddly textured while simultaneously tasting so foul it required her to cast multiple breath-freshening charms a day. 

It had only been in her mouth for a week, and it was already taking on a distinctly slimy texture that suggested it was beginning to break down. She didn’t know how the leaf was going to last the full month. In all the research she had done on the process, there had been plenty of accounts where people immediately spat out the leaf or swallowed it halfway through the process, but she had yet to find an example which discussed how to tell if what she was doing was right. 

Still, she trusted Sirius not to lead her wrong. He knew it was important to her, and while he had only begrudgingly agreed to help her with the transformation, his expression had been sincere when he said yes. Even more so when he gave her the leaf. Grey, almost silver eyes, silently promising to help her with the entire process. She hadn’t asked him to get her the leaf after all, so she trusted Sirius and continued casting the freshening charms while ignoring the slowly decaying leaf in her mouth. 

* * *

It was nearly a month into the term when she noticed him again for the first time. Studying with Pandora at their relatively hidden table near the Arithmancy section of the library, she spotted him from across the room. 

The last time she had seen him, he was taking his shaky last breaths on the moulding sofa of Grimmauld Place, explaining what went so wrong to the girl that isn’t quite her. But he doesn’t know that. Obviously. It hasn’t happened.

But she remembers it. In that distant way, she remembers all those memories. She remembers the helplessness of only being able to rely on one other person in the world, the strange reliance you place on them. She and Kingsley had spent weeks alone, trapped in Grimmauld; each other's only companion and comfort while trying to determine how to move forwards. 

They had developed an odd closeness from it, but he doesn’t know her here. Here, he is an older, popular Gryffindor boy with no reason to bestow his attention on the strange little Ravenclaw who spends perhaps too much time around his younger housemates. 

And yet, there he was, walking towards their table and greeting them with a simple, “Lupin, Malfoy,” and a nod in each of their directions. Hermione was baffled, seeing no reason for him to be talking to them, but nevertheless, he continued. His voice that same deep, dark tone it was _before_ , “How are NEWTS treating you?” 

Confused as she was Hermione still locked onto his dark brown eyes while replying “Well, thank you. You?”

“Good, good. Better seeing the two of you.” His eyes never once strayed from hers, and Hermione found herself almost unable to breathe under his heavy gaze. 

As she struggled to understand what was happening Pandora mercifully came to her rescue, “I’m enjoying Care of Magical Creatures particularly, but you’re not taking it, are you Shacklebolt?”

“No - I’m taking Arithmancy instead, like Lupin here. Which if you need any help, don’t hesitate to ask, but based on what I’ve heard, I doubt you’ll be needing it.” Hermione’s head felt like it was reeling as Kingsley kept all of his attention on her, but she somehow found it in herself to reply. 

“Well, thanks, Shackelbolt, I appreciate it either way.” 

“Of course, although, I must insist you call me Kingsley.” 

With that parting remark, he tossed her a grin and walked away, leaving Hermione feeling like her world had just tilted on its axis. 

* * *

Sixth year was going well for James Potter. A month into the new year and he had so far remained on speaking terms with Lily Evans. Even when convincing a bunch of first-years to break into Slughorn’s private chambers had earnt him a detention, Evans still did not react. 

It was strange, too, though. They had spent years bickering over tiny, insignificant things. James taunting her until her face turned the colour of her hair. Lily practising seemingly every mild hex she could find. But then last year happened. When Evans had returned from the summer practically glowing, and his world had turned on its head. 

Looking back, Evans had always been pretty, and he had always known that. Her pale skin, auburn hair and piercing green eyes, a stunning collection of contrasts. Even at eleven, it was clear she would grow up to be beautiful, but that wasn’t what James liked about her, not now. 

Once he started watching Lily Evans, he found himself entranced. For all he had believed the more he learnt about Evans, the less he would like her, he found the opposite was true. Instead, his initial physical attraction had morphed into a different desire. 

He spent a year watching as Evans remained loyal to Snape even with the rest of the Gryffindors encouraging her to break away from him. Watching as she called him and the rest of the Marauders out when they went too far, eyes lighting up with fury at any injustices. Beautiful, loyal and fierce. How could he be anything other than completely enthralled? Do anything other than envisage a future with her. 

Still, Hermione had pointed out all the ways he went wrong. He didn’t blame Evans for mistaking his affections. He was surprised by them too. And after Hermione had laid out all the errors he had made throughout the years, James could do nothing but take her advice. After all, he wanted Evans all the same. 

Grand romantic gestures put on hold James instead followed the rest of Hermione’s advice and was attempting to befriend her in the hopes Evans may eventually see him in the same light he saw her. Still, it meant he was on his best behaviour at least when Slughorn paired them together for Advanced Potions; having long ago banned James and Sirius from working together. 

“Potter, I know you generally consider school an inconvenient distraction between messing around with your mates, but I intend to do well in this class, so I’m going to need you to actually do some work this term.”

As she said it James couldn’t help but feel mildly offended, even if her concerns weren’t entirely unfounded, “Hey now Evans, I got into this class, same as you did I not? Besides, I have to do well too.” 

“I know you need Potions too. That’s why you’re going to apply the modicum of intelligence you have and not rely on me dragging you through this.”

“Careful now Evans, that was almost a compliment. And you know you’re always welcome to call me James.”

Her lips twitched in amusement at his response. “ _Don’t_ push your luck. You’re doing well so far. Let’s see how the rest of the term goes, and I’ll think about it.” James felt hope soar in his chest, and a broad smile spread across his face. 

“Very well. What are my orders then Miss Evans, you’re old Sluggy’s prodigy after all.”

A faint flush colouring her cheeks, Lily smiled modestly, “Go get the ingredients and then start grinding the Asphodel into a powder, _Mr Potter._ ” The last part was said mockingly, and they both chuckled softly, their truce holding for the moment. 

Across the classroom, Severus Snape watched stormy faced. 

* * *

Hermione saw more of Kingsley Shacklebolt in September than she had her other five years at Hogwarts combined. At first, she had feared he somehow knew what had happened to her. Knew the details of her past and what had happened to them both, but it soon became apparent that wasn’t the case. 

Instead, he appeared frequently, seemingly seeking her out personally and enticing her into conversations about various arithmancy theories or whatever else he thought may interest her. 

He was a lot like his older counterpart. He had the same reassuring presence and wry humour he had as an adult, but he was lighter somehow too. This Kingsley hadn’t fought not one, but two wars; he wasn’t trapped alone with a girl he barely knew; hadn’t lost everything and everyone. 

Hermione found she liked him like this, though. Liked the boy who sought her out when she was hidden away in the library. Who didn’t question that she was reading material far too advanced for a sixth year, merely raised a questioning eyebrow and directed the conversation elsewhere. The boy who invited himself to walk her back to Ravenclaw Tower in the evening, not with the confidence of experience but, with the cocksure assurance of youth. 

She, therefore, was not surprised when he appeared at her and Pandora’s table once again. Inviting himself to sit next to her, she barely got a chance to greet him before he started talking. 

“Hermione,” voice low and reassuring, “As you know, the first Hogsmeade Weekend is next week, and I was hoping you would do me the honour of accompanying me.” 

“I’d love to,” Hermione breathed out before she could even think about it, almost hypnotised by the feeling of his eyes on her. 

“Excellent. I have to check in with the prefects who are on duty first, but after that, I’m free to head down to the village. Would 1pm outside the Great Hall work for you?”

At her answering nod, he grinned once again, “Well then, good night, ladies. Hermione, I’ll see you around.”

As he left, she turned to her friend and saw Pandora giving her a knowing smirk as if she should have expected this before now, and Hermione supposed she probably should have. Kingsley had been making a conservative effort to talk to her alone all term, so it really shouldn’t have been as much of a surprise as it felt like it was. 

Still, Hermione rarely thinks of herself these days. Preoccupied with the future and her plans to avoid terrible versions of it. Part of her feels guilty at the thought of being distracted by frivolous things like dating, but she reassures herself with the thought that five years is a long time. 

Instead, she turns her thoughts back to Kingsley Shacklebolt and considers him in an entirely new light. Tall, and dark-haired with the broad muscles of a Beater she can’t deny he’s attractive. Even more so knowing the kind of man he would grow up to become; steady, calm, and loyal. She hadn’t thought about him like that before, but now, she can’t help but think back to the flustered feeling his heavy gaze had given her moments before. 

Besides, for all she should be focusing on the bigger picture, at heart she’s still a sixteen-year-old girl. Ruled by hormones and desires and who relishes the thought of a good looking older boy taking an interest in her. 

She’s been on dates before, trips to Hogsmeade that never went anything beyond that. Her partners always ended up babbling uncontrollably, sweating bullets, or breaking out in some unexplainable rash. She knows her brother and his friends were responsible, though, she’s never been able to find the proof to properly accuse them. 

Even still, an older boy from their own house. Head Boy too, because even as a teenager Kingsley Shacklebolt was nothing but an overachiever. They likely wouldn’t dare do anything. And even if they did, she couldn’t deny enjoying the way his heated gazed had made her feel. 

* * *

Abandoning Pandora, Hermione made her way over to the Gryffindor table for breakfast. She always got strange looks when she did, the houses so rarely intermingling outside of classes, but she ate there often enough she felt they should have moved past it. 

She tried to join Remus for meals as much as possible the week of the full moon. The wolf always got more agitated, and Remus himself was constantly on edge, senses overloaded as they got more sensitive. 

Something about her presence always seemed to soothe him a little though. Whether it was the reassurance that came from Hermione having been his constant companion or the possessiveness Moony felt towards her she would never know, but she made an effort to be there for him all the same. 

Before sitting at their table, Hermione cast a final breath-freshening charm to disguise the smell of the almost month-old mandrake leaf; unwilling to clue her brother into her plan when she was this far into it. 

The Marauder’s all span to look at her when she sat, serious expressions on their faces, although Remus’s may have been pain. Confused by their behaviour, she began pouring her tea before giving in. 

“What?” 

“Were you ever going to inform us you’ll be attending Hogsmeade next weekend with Kingsley Shacklebolt?” James answered, his tone difficult to place; his question amused him, but he was serious too. 

“Well seeing as he only asked me last night I hadn’t exactly had the opportunity too. Why?” 

This time it was Sirius who replied, “Because he never mentioned anything to Moony. We didn’t even know you knew each other and next thing we hear he’s taking you to Hogsmeade.”

“Sirius Black, I certainly hope you’re not suggesting Kingsley needed _permission_ to ask me to Hogsmeade are you?” Hermione cut him off before he could dig himself into a deeper hole. “Tell me, which member of your … _entourage_ … will you be taking to the village this weekend, and who did you ask permission from before inviting them?” 

As usual, Sirius began backtracking once Hermione started asking questions. It was the way a lot of their conversations went. Sirius would start by saying something asinine, which Hermione would rebuttal in a familiar game of verbal tennis. The others were used to it by now, and truthfully Hermione enjoyed it, secretly finding their sparring thrilling. He did it mostly to get a rise out of her though - she knew that. 

However, before Sirius could properly reply Pettigrew cut in, “Shouldn’t he have though. Asked Moony’s permission?”

At this Hermione directed her ire towards him, fixing him with a furious glare. For all she had disliked him before, she hated him now. Knowing what he may one day do, knowing what a cowardly, little traitor he was. Still, she wasn’t going to do anything outwardly that would clue the rest of the boys onto her feelings. They were all strangely protective of their odd, little friend. Glaring at him over insensitive comments though, that was something that was allowed.

Just as she was preparing to verbally eviscerate Pettigrew, Remus stepped in. “No, Peter, Shacklebolt doesn’t require my permission to take Hermione to Hogsmeade because she doesn’t belong to me.”

Even as he said it Remus looked exhausted by the fact they even had to have this conversation, “She doesn't belong to anyone. And frankly, even if Shackelbolt did need my permission, I would have no issue with him. Anyway, bigger news is that so far Prongs has refrained from asking Evans out this term and it's been a month, that must be some kind of record at this point.” 

“Oi, I’ll have you know I’m making progress. She said I was less annoying than usual yesterday and that’s practically a love confession when it’s from Evans.”

The rest of breakfast passed in the usual array of joking arguments that defined the Marauder’s friendship. And before long Hermione was getting up to leave, but not before Sirius subtly slid a small note into her hand. 

Waiting until she had left the Great Hall, she opened it and read. 

_Abandoned Charms classroom, 3rd floor, 11pm_

It was after curfew, and floors away from either of their common rooms but she could only assume it was serious if he wanted to meet with her, so she waited until they passed in the corridors between classes to nod slightly at him in agreement. 

* * *

Sirius was already there when she got to the classroom. Bent over a familiar piece of parchment, you couldn’t tell he was there from outside. The room was still dark and quiet, and Sirius was tucked around the corner where you wouldn’t see him unless you went into the room. 

Entering she raised her wand to cast a locking charm but he shook his head while tucking away the parchment. She knew it was the map, yet another of the Marauders’ secrets revealed to her, but he didn’t know she was familiar with it, so she left him to hide it away. 

“Nothing invites questions like locked doors. I cast a silencing charm, but as long as we stay over here, we should be good.” 

Hermione nodded and stepped into the small space that was hidden from the door. The room was dark. Lit only by the almost full moon shining through the windows highlighting aristocratic features; high cheekbones and a strong jaw, all perfect, chosen through generations of inbreeding. Moonlight bouncing off his shaggy curls, illuminating his eyes, making them molten silver. It felt strangely intimate seeing him like this; what he looked like under the shadow of night, darkness only enhancing his beauty. 

Hermione felt vaguely guilty about meeting him here, even though they were doing nothing wrong and she didn’t technically have anything with Kingsley to betray. It just felt illicit somehow, intimate in a way she wasn’t expecting. 

“Are you really going to Hogsmeade with Shacklebolt?” 

It wasn’t what she was expecting him to say, and based on his expression, it wasn’t what he was planning on asking either, but she answered anyway. 

“Yes. He asked, and I agreed. Why?”

“Just surprised I guess, didn’t know you two even knew each other.”

“We don’t really, at least not before this year, but we’ve talked a bit. I like him.”

“Yeah - yeah. He’s fine.” Sirius muttered in reply, though he didn’t sound overly happy which confused her as he’d never had an issue with Kingsley before as far as she was aware. 

“Don’t you play Quidditch with him?” 

“Yes, Mini, I do. Well, enjoy your trip then, I guess.” 

“Thank you” Hermione replied, still confused, “I will. Though please refrain from hexing this one.”

“Ha. Finally caught on have you.” 

“No. I’ve always known it was you lot cursing them, I’ve just never had any proof. But you can’t seriously have asked me here to discuss my dating life.” 

“Oh, you know I’m always Sirius.” 

She looked at him dead faced, refusing to acknowledge his reply and waiting for him to continue to his actual point. 

“Fine - I wanted to check if you’re ready for tomorrow.”

Tomorrow, the full moon. The next crucial step in her transformation. 

When she could finally remove the leaf from her mouth and start making the potion that would allow her to assume her form. She had the ingredients ready, the dew, the chrysalis, the crystal vile. She was just waiting for the moon in the same way she had once waited for the sun. 

“It looks like it’ll be clear skies tomorrow so that won’t be a problem, but please just be cautious. I know you have to be outside and I’ll keep Moony away from the castle but be safe. Don’t stay out there any longer than you have to.” 

He was so unusually sincere that Hermione couldn’t help but agree. He spent so much time hiding the more sensitive parts of himself from the world, and yet here he was pleading with her to stay safe. 

“Of course, but Sirius, you don’t have to worry. I know I said I wanted your help, and I appreciate it, I really do, but I never meant for you to be this involved, I just meant if I had questions.”

“I know Mini, but I made a promise to keep you safe, and I’ll be damned if I break it. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so - Hermione/Kingsley - pls dont get mad - ily 💖
> 
> TW: none


	8. A Date

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy sunday!!  
> i'm so glad you guys like hermione and kingsley - i feel like theyre such interesting characters individually i really wanted to explore who they were together a bit more  
> Also! The pinterest board https://pin.it/1HYMMGR  
> As always please lmk if you think I should add any more tags, I'm new to all this never 100% certain what I should tag things
> 
> TW in end notes

**October 1976**

Hermione saw surprisingly little of Kingsley the week leading up to their date. He appeared a few times in the library but did not make the usual trip over to talk to her, and there were no more late-night escorts back up to Ravenclaw Tower either. 

At first, she had been concerned by the abrupt change of pace, but when he appeared the night before their date and assured her he was looking forward to it, Hermione found herself surprisingly comforted. At least, until the next morning, when she was faced with the reality of what was happening. 

“Pandora, _what am I doing?_ I can’t just go on random dates. I have responsibilities!”

“Yes, you do. But, they are not stopping you from going, and we have nothing we need to do at the moment anyway.”

It was not the answer Hermione was looking for, so she tried a different approach. “Well, what about you? I can’t just leave you alone, who will you go to Hogsmeade with?” 

“Of course, you could leave me, Hermione. Besides, if you don’t go with Shacklebolt, you’ll be the one left alone anyway.”

“Wait. What?”

“Well, I’m going with Xenophilius, aren’t I.”

“ _You are_? Why haven’t I heard anything? You never told me he asked you out.”

“Oh, he hasn’t. Our time isn’t yet. We’re just going as friends.” It was a typically cryptic answer from Pandora and one that did nothing to soothe her nerves. 

“Well, I have nothing to wear!” It was the last cry of the desperate as Hermione had never been one to work herself up over stylistic choices in the past. 

That wasn’t to say she didn’t care about her appearance. She had no trouble admitting she embraced some of her more feminine characteristics, it just wasn’t the be-all and end-all of who she was. It was also blatantly untrue as she sat surrounded by the mass of clothes that had prompted her nerves in the first place. 

She didn’t know what it was about the idea of going to Hogsmeade with Kingsley Shacklebolt that was suddenly making her so anxious. She supposed it could only be to do with her worries over what others may think. She had always been the strange little lion that wasn’t, and teenage girls could be vicious when they chose to be.

Therefore, the realisation in mere hours she would be put on display with the ever-popular, _Pureblood,_ Head Boy made her nerves skyrocket. Not that she cared about blood status, only that there were plenty who would believe she was not worthy of his attention and spend the whole time judging from afar. 

Sensing her friend’s distress Pandora turned back to look at her, eyes cloudy in the way that suggested she was about to speak more than just stories. “Hermione, there is a long road ahead of us, filled with darkness and sorrow. Take this time to be happy. We don’t know how long we will be able to be.” 

Pandora’s dire warning served its purpose, and Hermione sighed and focused her attention back on the piles of clothes around their room, readying herself to face the world.

Heading down to the Great Hall she could feel nerves rise back up in her stomach but she focused on Pandora’s words and continued to make her way there. Leaning up against a pillar Kingsley was dressed in the quasi-formal robes all purebloods tended to wear instead of truly casual clothing. They made sense on him though.

Perhaps, it was her familiarity with an older Kingsley decked out in Auror robes, but they worked on him. Emphasising his wide shoulders and giving him an aura of maturity, his school uniform failed to provide but that Hermione recognised from his later years. 

Glancing up at her approach, a broad smile broke across his face, brightening those dark eyes. “Hermione, you look lovely. How are you?”

“Well, thank you.” Hermione replied a faint flush colouring her cheeks, “You look nice too.”

He smiled in response before waving a hand in the direction of the courtyard, “Shall we head out, we wouldn’t want to miss the carriages.” 

She nodded in reply and he offered her his arm. Slipping in beside him, she noticed quite how tall he was for the first time but then again everyone seemed tall in comparison to Hermione. Tucked in next him though she found she left her butterflies at the castle and instead was looking forward to spending the day with him. 

* * *

Hermione thought the afternoon was going well. They had started at the Three Broomsticks for a late lunch before browsing the shops for the remainder of their time down in the village. 

Lunch had been filled with learning more about each other. Kingsley confessing his desire to become an Auror. A thought that made Hermione smile, reassuring him knowingly that he’d be excellent. In return, Hermione told him she wasn’t sure what her plans after Hogwarts were yet. It wasn’t entirely true. She had plenty of plans for after Hogwarts, just none that she could tell him.

Still, she enjoyed their time in Hogsmeade as she spent the afternoon on his arm, revelling in their closeness and the feeling of his fingers stroking the inside of her wrist. She was almost melancholy as they returned to the castle, but the feeling was swiftly dismissed when Kingsley suggested meeting after dinner in the library. It was hardly the most romantic way to end a date, but she appreciated the sentiment all the same. There were few options when you were trapped in a castle ten months of the year. 

He was sitting at her usual hidden table and smiled up at her as she approached, eyes the same heavy gaze they had been since their first conversation. He pulled out the chair next to him, and Hermione gratefully sat, reaching to begin the homework she still had to work through. 

They said little at first. Both of them consumed by their respective work, simply enjoying each other's company in the quiet, almost deserted library. She didn’t know how long they’d been working when she felt a shiver run through her, but she was done with her assigned work and was beginning to look through books for her own project. 

“Cold?” He glanced at her sideways, questioning. 

“Hmm. A bit. The library’s never as warm as it could be.”

“Fair. It’s pretty drafty in here after all.” As he said it, he handed her the outer robes he’d removed earlier. They were a deep maroon colour and made of some kind of wool that was soft to the touch. Smiling gratefully she put them on, both ignoring the fact they easily could have cast a warming charm. 

“You done already?” he continued. 

“Oh, yes. Just working on some personal research now.”

“You know anyone would think you’ve already done your NEWTs with how easy you seem to find the work.” That made her laugh; he didn’t know how accurate he was. Part of her already had. 

Of course, that part of her had, technically, only done the first year of her NEWTS. But, recognising how bad things were getting Hermione Granger had taken it upon herself to complete two years’ worth of work in one. It hadn’t been hard. She’d been doing seventh-year spells for years, so really everything they were learning now was just a recap. 

Still, that was yet another thing she couldn’t tell him. Instead, she chuckled softly replying, “No. Just studious, I guess. Living up to the Ravenclaw name.” 

He grinned at her reply, amused, “Well then, what are you working on?” 

“I’m looking into wards. I want to see how they could be combined to provide the best protection.” 

It was the first time either of them had mentioned the war, even if it was just an oblique reference. They both knew what people needed protection from. Nothing public had happened yet, but there had been disappearances and suspicious deaths aplenty. Even if no one was talking about it, they all knew something was happening. 

The smile was gone, and his face was suddenly serious. “Yes - I can see how that’s a good area to research. Hopefully, you find something worthwhile.” 

Falling back into silence, Hermione contemplated his words. She hoped to find something worthwhile as well—her interest in wards stemming from a desire to protect her loved ones when things got bad. 

She had no intention of allowing things to get to the point the Potter’s were forced under the Fidelius Charm, but she would also _never_ rely on it alone again. There would be no weak link this time. 

Eventually, curfew was upon them. And for all Kingsley may be given a pass as Head Boy it would not extend to Hermione. She rather doubted any of the Professors would be interested in hearing their excuses anyway. 

Instead, they both gathered their belongings and Kingsley took her bag before they began the walk up to Ravenclaw Tower together. An unspoken agreement between them he would be accompanying her. 

They were near the entrance when he stopped, pulling her gently into a hidden alcove. For a moment, she was confused, but then she saw him looking down at her. If his gaze had been heavy before it was burning now, desire igniting his eyes. 

“I’m going to kiss you now, Hermione.” 

She found herself nodding in agreement, breath stolen from her lungs, before anything had even happened. 

He was smiling again as he lifted a hand to her face, grazing her cheekbone lightly with his knuckles. Then he was on her. Lips pressing softly against her own, stealing what little breath she had left as she revelled in the warmth between the two of them. 

He started slowly, gently exploring her lips, cupping her face close, but eventually, deeper desires consumed him. Tangling one hand into her hair, the other stroked her neck, raising her chin and granting him even more access to her. 

Pushing her against the wall, he bit gently on her bottom lip. She couldn’t help but gasp at the feeling, a sweet, sharp pain among the sensations of soft lips brushing hers, and large hands soothing down her neck and along her back. 

Breathing in her sighs and taking them as his own, he pressed further into her. Hands tightening in their hold, tongue slipping into her mouth and caressing hers gently. It was an intoxicating sensation and she found herself unable to focus on anything in particular. Lost in the gentle strokes of his tongue against hers, his fingers gripping her hair and his other hand exploring what curves of her body it could find over their clothing. 

She whimpered against him when he dragged his lips from hers, pressing them against her throat as they both breathed heavily. Placing hot, open-mouthed kisses on the column of her neck he had her shivering with the need to feel his lips back on hers. When they finally returned there, he continued exploring the warm depths of her mouth, greedily breathing in each one of the gasps that escaped her. 

Eventually, though, he pulled away with a brush of his lips against hers. They were still entwined as their breathing calmed and she felt dizzy; like her whole body was tingling when they finally separated. 

Walking her to the door of Ravenclaw tower, he placed one last kiss to her swollen lips with a quiet “Goodnight,” before leaving her to make her way to her dorm still dazed. 

She had been kissed before. Quick pecks during truth or dare, or similar games. But this was different. Intense in a way she had never experienced, the heady feeling making her almost dizzy as she tried to come back down. She could still feel his lips and the echo of his fingertips on her throat, making her skin feel like it was on vibrate. 

Her other memories gave more insight into the sensation. Experienced in ways she was not. In those memories, she thought she had loved Ron, but she didn’t know now. That part of her somehow too distant to truly understand what she had felt. But she recognised this feeling from experiences even before Ron. 

From stealing kisses with Viktor Krum the night of the Yule Ball. Or giving in to a moment of weakness with Cormac McLaggen in a dark corridor. That wasn’t a memory she was proud of, but it had made her feel wanted in a time when the one she thought she loved was rejecting her. Made her feel desirable when the world was telling her she was not.

Even those memories failed to provide what that from the summer after her sixth year did though. Knowing what darkness was to come, what dangers may lie in wait for her, she had instead chosen to seek out a Muggle boy to ensure her first experience was good. Enjoyable even, and that no matter what happened in the upcoming fight, they would never be able to take that from her. 

She hadn’t loved him. Not that she was naive enough to believe you had to love your first, but it had been a choice this other version of her had made, and she knew she hadn’t regretted it. Still, she hoped when the time came, she herself would be able to decide under less dire circumstances. 

Pushing aside her faded memories, she instead focused back on what she was feeling right now. How, he had set her very being ablaze, igniting parts of her she hadn’t even known existed. 

Still wrapped in his cloak the scent of him surrounded her, pulling her back into the memory of his lips against hers and the feeling of the strength in his hands as they explored her body. 

Mind too preoccupied for thoughts of Tom Riddle, or prophecies, or whatever other darkness would usually creep into her psyche Hermione instead fell asleep focusing on the new sensations Kingsley had unlocked in her. 

* * *

The last weeks of October passed quickly. Classes got harder as Professors moved through their NEWT work, but the only real change for Hermione was Kingsley, who became a frequent presence at their table in the library. Even more so with Pandora disappearing off to befriend Regulus.

In public, their relationship never strayed past the bounds of convention. He’d sit with her at their table, arm on the back of her chair, fingers playing with her hair almost unthinkingly while they studied or made quiet conversation. 

They rarely went beyond that where they risked others seeing. But, some evenings when they were seemingly alone in the depths of the library he’d place a hand on her knee without comment, thumb rubbing gentle circles on the sensitive skin in a way that promised more later. 

Those evenings, he would pull her into alcoves or abandoned classrooms and kiss her until she was dazed in the same way she had been the first time. Mind cloudy and skin alive with the feeling of his hands or lips on her. Initially, they hadn’t gone beyond their first passionate kiss, but as the month went by, they grew bolder. 

Hands roamed under clothing. Gentle fingers stroking their way along her ribs, exploring the soft skin under her breasts, or feeling the ripple of muscles move in his back as he pressed her up against walls. Hot kisses left marks on her neck hidden only by the high collar of school shirts, and the whole thing held an air of delightful illicitness. 

Usually, she would never allow herself to be so reckless, but Kingsley assured her he knew the prefects’ routes and they were at no risk of being discovered. Besides, she had thought a lot about Pandora's words.

Things inevitably would get so much worse before everything was over, so why shouldn’t she enjoy herself before life got more dangerous. Why not embrace those few moments of carelessness before the weight of the world truly laid itself on her shoulders. 

* * *

She and Remus were studying at her usual table, alone for the first time in weeks, when he finally asked the question that he’d clearly been thinking about for days. 

“So you and Shackebolt are happening?” 

“I mean, I guess. I do like him.”

“And things are going okay - he treats you well?” Even as he said it, her brother’s cheeks took on an embarrassed pink.

From anyone else she would have been offended at the question. That they debated whether she would let herself be treated anything less than well, but she knew Remus would never think that of her. He just couldn’t help but be overprotective. Besides, he had already pointed out she was free to make her own decisions to Pettigrew.

“Yes, Remus,” she sighed, “He treats me very well,” this time it was her cheeks that flushed thinking of their late-night activities, “We’re going to Hogsmeade together again.” 

“That’s good. Things are serious then?”

“I mean, I don’t know about that, it has only been a month,” Hermione laughed, but it did raise questions. 

There was so much of her life that he could never know about. Remus’ condition, that she was trying to become an animagus, everything to do with her plans after Hogwarts. How long could they last with her keeping so many secrets? It didn’t matter now, but she feared they would someday come back to haunt her. 

“Well, either way - I just want you to be happy.”

“Not too happy though, Mini. We’ve all seen those love bites you think you’re hiding under your shirt,” Sirius’s voice interrupted them, and Hermione flushed bright red. 

“Sirius!” she hissed, mortified, “What are you three doing here? I didn’t think you even knew where the library was?” 

“Ouch.” He replied unrepentant, “We’ve come to drag Moony out of here. You can’t waste a Friday night in the library. Merlin, just when I thought you were getting interesting too, Little Lupin.”

She refused to let herself rise to his baiting, and resolutely ignored him. Instead focusing on breathing deeply to cool the burning red of her face. Thankfully, her brother seemed determined to ignore discussions of the more physical aspects of her relationship and was asking what they expected to do instead. 

James apparently also saw her too much like a sister to join Sirius in his teasing like he usually would. Instead replying to Remus’ question “We’re thinking kitchens and cards.” 

Remus had made the mistake of teaching the boys poker last summer, and it had become a game they all enjoyed far too much considering they only bet Honeydukes. Still, her brother would never turn down the opportunity to win extra chocolate, especially this close to the full moon. So, she smiled and pled the desire to find Pandora, letting her brother retire for the evening. As they left the library though Sirius slipped her another note. 

_Same place. Same time._

* * *

Sirius was already there when she reached the classroom—sitting on the moonlit table hidden from the door just as he had been last time. Taking a seat on the desk opposite, she waited for him to start talking. 

“How are your meditations going?”

For some reason, it wasn’t what she was expecting. It made perfect sense for him to be asking about her progress with the transformation, but it just hadn’t occurred to her that would be why he was seeking her out. Not that she knew what else she was expecting. 

“Not overly well, I can get into a trance, but I haven’t seen anything yet. Just spend a lot of time breathing deeply.”

“Yeah - we got pretty stuck there too. It takes a long time to accept the animal within or whatever.” 

“I guess so. I mean it’s supposed to take a long time, right?”

“Took us three years - if you can get in the trance, you’re already doing better than we were.” Sirius grinned at her as he said it and she felt strangely reassured that he was right. What she was attempting was something a lot of adult wizards never achieved, it would take time. She knew that. 

“I guess I just keep wondering what I’ll be - no idea though.”

“Tiny thing like you, Mini? I reckon you’ll be something small and fluffy. A cat maybe?” 

“ I can’t be a cat! Remus hates them. Moony wouldn’t let me anywhere near him.”

“Nope - I’ve convinced myself. You’ll be a cat, and a small one at that. Maybe I’ll start calling you Kitten.” 

Hermione glared at him when he said it. Kitten, yet another diminutive nickname she didn’t want. Her thoughts were interrupted by a distant voice though, 

“What is it about Fridays that has everyone sneaking out to snog.” 

It was said in a joking tone to whoever was patrolling with him at the same time Kingsley opened the door to their classroom. 

He stopped suddenly taking in the odd scene. The two of them sat on opposite desks nowhere near each other but alone in a dark classroom nonetheless. “Hermione? Black?” 

As he said it, Jenny Fawley, the Head Girl came up behind him, eyes wide, but he continued, “What are the two of you doing here?”

Hermione’s mind went blank; nothing she could say wouldn’t be incriminating. They were out alone after curfew, and everyone knew Sirius’ reputation. 

Mercifully, Sirius had six years of experience talking his way out of trouble, “Well Lupin, looks like you were right. Caught. I’ll have to listen to you next time.” 

“Next time?” she questioned, confused by where he was going with his excuse. 

“Oh, we both know I’ll piss Remus off again soon enough. Still, you should have ignored me when I told you to meet me here. Well then Shacklebolt, what’s the damage? How many points are you about to take from your own house? Or worse, from your girlfriend’s.” 

Kingsley looked too confused to answer, so Fawley stepped in “10 points from you both Black. Now head back to Gryffindor, no detours either.” 

Sirius nodded with a smirk, called out a good night and headed off in the direction of Gryffindor tower, leaving Hermione alone with both Heads. 

Fawley looked distinctly uncomfortable, going to stand out in the corridor while she and Kingsley talked. With her gone, he raised a questioning eyebrow in her direction, motioning for her to explain what they’d just walked in on. 

“I swear that wasn’t what it looked like.”

“Hermione, I don’t know what that looked like. You and Black just sitting talking in a dark classroom? What’s happening?”

“Nothing. I promise. Sirius majorly pissed off my brother and was begging me to make sure Remus doesn’t _murder_ him. He sent me a note asking him to meet here this evening and didn’t give me a chance to say no. Nothing’s happening - I swear.” 

As she explained, understanding drew across his face, “So what, Black pissed off your brother and is asking you to make peace on his behalf?” 

“Exactly - some ridiculous argument to do with Sirius ‘accidentally’ destroying Remus’ textbooks.”

“Well, their little group was always faintly ridiculous - they always rely on you to fix their messes?” he questioned, amused. 

“Mostly. Somehow they just keep talking me into it.” 

He laughed at her reply so she continued, “Well I should probably head back to the tower. Um, I’ll see you tomorrow, right?” Suddenly concerned he may no longer want to go to Hogsmeade with her. 

“Yes, Hermione. 1pm outside the Great Hall like last time, remember? Now off to bed with you, you’ll be needing your beauty sleep."

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so - you made it  
> Hermione and Kingsley getting pretty hot and heavy huh?  
> At first I was like hmm they're moving kinda fast but then I thought about it and theyre horny teenagers alone in a castle with limited adult supervision - like theyre going to move that fast so things getting a lil steamy this chapter
> 
> TW: Adult/Sexual Content (only mild tho)


	9. The Trip

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy sunday!!  
> i'm so glad y'all are enjoying hermione/kingsley - honestly theyre kind of adorable together so im super happy you guys seem to like them as much as i enjoy writing them  
> also tysm for all the lovely comments - they honestly make my day so THANK YOU!!!  
> pinterest board : https://pin.it/uprmPZT
> 
> TW in end notes

**November 1976**

Remus looked terrible at breakfast. His skin having adopted a distinctly grey sheen that betrayed his efforts to look like he didn’t wish he were still in bed. James didn’t know why he had refused to go to the Hospital Wing. It wasn’t as if they had classes, and for all he understood the desire to escape down to Hogsmeade, it was clear that was the last thing Remus should be doing. 

Instead of spending the day resting under the doting attentions of Madam Pomfrey his friend was half asleep over his eggs, valiantly trying to deny quite how bad he felt. The day before the full moon though, there was little he could do to hide quite how much he was suffering. 

Despite how unwell Remus was clearly feeling he had outright refused to go to the infirmary when James had suggested it. He was, therefore, relieved when Hermione appeared in the Great Hall as she was always better at reasoning with her brother than he was. Even if Moony insisted on being a stubborn arse, Hermione could usually get through to him. 

“Remus, what on earth are you doing here? Why aren’t you in the Hospital Wing?” As she questioned him, Hermione looked over the rest of the Marauders as if they should have known better than to let her brother drag himself anywhere when he was looking this bad. 

James supposed she was right; they did know better. Still, Remus had insisted and sometimes it was better not to smother him too much lest he begin to feel like a burden; something that only made his friend withdraw into himself. 

“Hermione, I’m fine.” Remus’s voice cut off any further questioning, but his tone suggested differently. 

“Oh really, you’re fine?” Hermione sounded disbelieving, and James didn’t blame her, nothing about Moony looked well, “And I suppose you have no plans of going to the infirmary today do you? Fancy a quick trip to Hogsmeade while you’re at it?”

Remus growled at her questioning. Moony was always a little closer to the surface with the transformation this close. “Actually yes - I feel plenty well enough to go to the village.”

The rest of the table broke out into protests at his statement, but once again, Hermione’s voice broke through them. 

“Remus, you must be joking. There’s no way you’re making it out today. I’m sorry you’re missing the trip, but this is ridiculous. Do you want me to come to the Hospital Wing with you? I’m sure Kingsley would understand.”

James saw remorse flash across Remus’s face. He knew his friend hated how Hermione worried over him, even if he did the same over her. He would never want her to cancel something on his behalf, but James also knew he appreciated the offer all the same. 

“No, Hermione. But I’ve got to go anyway. It’s the Gryffindor prefect's turn to monitor the trip.”

Suddenly the cause of Remus’s behaviour became apparent. He hated admitting his lycanthropy prevented him from doing anything, but the tasks that came along with his position as prefect were particularly sensitive. James knew part of his friend questioned whether he should have received the badge, so it only made sense he would be in denial over his ability to do this particular duty. 

“Oh, _come on_ Moony, there’s got to be someone who could cover for you. You can’t actually be thinking about going like this are you?” For once it was Sirius who was the voice of reason, though Remus was already shaking his head. 

“They all have plans already. Plus, they already had to cover for me twice this term, it’s not fair to ask them to give up their Hogsmeade trip for me. I’ll be fine. We just sit in the Three Broomsticks all afternoon anyway. I’ll be as good there as I would be here.”

Nobody looked convinced. They all knew it was a lie, the pub was always loud and busy in a way that would only irritate Remus’s moon-heightened senses, but he also seemed to be daring them to contradict him. 

Hermione was already shaking her head, unintimidated “Remus there must be another option, surely someone could cover for you. I can tell how bad you feel just by looking at you.”

“There isn’t. All the other prefects are busy.”

Suddenly James had a burst of inspiration, “Well, the prefects may be busy, but I’m not.”

“No, but you’re not a Prefect either.”

“Of course not,” he laughed, “but I am Quidditch Captain.”

Remus still didn’t look convinced, but Hermione’s face was slowly brightening as she was reassured her brother wouldn’t be forced down to the village, so James continued, “Look, you’ll be with Evans, right?”

Remus nodded.

“Well, she doesn’t actively hate me anymore and taking one look at you should be enough to convince her she doesn’t want to risk catching whatever you have.”

“Nice Prongs, thanks.”

James laughed at his friend before finishing his plan, "And then Hermione can work her magic on Shacklebolt, and it’ll all work out great.” 

The rest of the Marauders had stayed quiet through his explanation but were all nodding in agreement, save for Remus who looked reluctant to admit defeat. 

“It could work. Plus, Prongs gets to spend the whole afternoon _mooning_ over Evans with good reason” Sirius replied snickering at his choice of words before he smirked and turned to Hermione, “Well then Kitten, how confident are you in your ability to convince Shacklebolt?”

While his tone was teasing, James could tell there was more to his question. Something that confused him as he didn’t know what Sirius could be referring to. 

“Perfectly fine, thank you, Sirius,” again Hermione’s voice was sharp and told more than her answer suggested.

But none of the others reacted, leaving James to question if he was imagining things. The nickname was new though, Hermione usually protested at least a couple of times to any new monikers, but she voiced no objections to this one. 

Eventually, Peter spoke up, “so Moony’s staying here, right? And Prongs will be spending the afternoon with Evans? What about Sirius and I?”

At this, Sirius looked sheepish, “Uh, actually Wormtail, it’ll just be you - I’ve got myself a date with Hestia Jones.”

While who Sirius would be bestowing his attention on was news to James the fact Sirius had a date was hardly shocking. He was well known within the walls of Hogwarts for rarely being alone but always being single, despite many of the girls’ best efforts. Hestia Jones _was_ new. Though James secretly doubted it would last long after this Hogsmeade trip. 

Even though he too was familiar with Sirius’s reputation, Peter still looked surprised by the information, “Oh, okay.”

James felt bad that he was going to be left alone, even if it was Remus that was being abandoned in the castle. “I’m sure you could come to Broomsticks with Evans and me,” he tried. 

“No - it’s okay Prongs. Enjoy some time with Evans. I’ll just grab some stuff and head back up to the castle to join Moony.”

Despite his answer, James thought Peter looked angered by the change of plans. He quickly dismissed the thought as unfair though. Wormtail had said he would come back and keep Remus company after all. 

* * *

To all of their surprise, Lily put up very little fight regarding James covering Remus’s Prefect duties. Although to be fair, Remus did look as if a strong wind could blow him over so James couldn’t exactly fault her for not wanting to spend the afternoon in close proximity to the boy. 

Shacklebolt too, had taken little convincing after Hermione told him she was worried about her brother. So, even though his position as Quidditch Captain meant little in terms of authority off the pitch, the Heads still agreed to the switch. Meaning for once in his life, James was responsible for enforcing the rules rather than breaking them. 

In reality, the prefects didn’t have much to do during school trips to the village; responsible only for sitting in the Three Broomsticks in case of emergencies. It would have been a dull task were it not for the promise of spending a whole afternoon with Lily, so instead, James was greatly looking forward to it. 

Scouting a table in the crowded pub, the pair shed their heavy outerwear, winter already holding the Highlands firmly in its grasp. 

“Right then Evans, I’m going to get a butterbeer. Want anything?”

“Potter, you don’t have to buy me anything, this is just because Remus is sick remember?” she sounded exasperated as she said it, clearly fearing a return to the old way of things. 

“I know. I promised, didn’t I? No asking you out, and I haven’t. This is just payment for putting up with me this afternoon.” 

Lily reluctantly agreed with his explanation, but she was smiling slightly, “Well then, I guess, I’ll have a hot chocolate. Thank you.” 

Nodding sharply, James abandoned her at the table to hunt down Madame Rosemerta. Finally returning with their drinks, he found he didn’t know what to say. He had imagined this scenario so many times over the past year. Finally getting to share a table in the pub with her, both of them huddled tightly around a table.

The reality was different, though. It was not a date, and she was only really there because she had to be, but things were going better this term. The two of them worked well together in potions, and without his weekly displays of affection, he found they got along far better than expected - even if they still had the occasional petty argument.

Still, seeing Lily sitting there waiting for him, words almost left him. “So, tell me. How does this go? As usual, you're the expert here, Evans.”

“Honestly, we usually just sit here waiting for something to happen. Sometimes a third year will make themselves sick off Honeydukes, but that’s about as exciting as it gets.” 

“Sounds thrilling. Um, thanks again for agreeing to let me cover for Remus, I honestly didn’t think he’d make it through breakfast.”

“Don’t worry about it, Potter. He looked like he could use the rest. Plus, I thought Hermione might actually hex me if I disagreed.” He chuckled at that, it was true. Hermione had been somewhat forceful regarding the switch. 

“Yeah, they can be quite _protective_ over each other. Though, I am at least 80% certain she wouldn’t have gone through with it.” 

Lily laughed at his reply, and James felt something flutter in his chest that she was comfortable enough to laugh at his jokes now, even if she did still insist on calling him Potter. 

As he was contemplating their relationship, though, they were both distracted by the sounds of explosions ringing through the village. 

* * *

Hermione had worried Kingsley finding her and Sirius in the abandoned classroom would ruin their date. She wasn’t sure how she would have felt about coming across a similar scene, but he took it remarkably well and didn’t mention it beyond telling her the beauty sleep had paid off. 

Instead, they skipped lunch and spent the time touring the shops, passing a large portion of the afternoon in _Tomes and Scrolls_ satisfying their more academic interests. It was something Hermione appreciated. That Kingsley too shared her intellectual enthusiasm. That he didn’t undervalue her pursuits and instead questioned her on them, challenging her in new ways that she had grown to enjoy over the month since their last trip into the village. 

Still, even as she enjoyed the afternoon with Kingsley, she couldn’t stop her thoughts from drifting to her brother trapped up in the castle. Two moons in a row had fallen over the weekend, meaning they had only claimed Remus was sick since no one was in classes to notice his absence otherwise. 

Those months meant he was alone more, though, without her there as a constant distraction. She still visited him as much as possible, but it wasn’t the same. Madam Pomfrey would only let her or the other Marauders stay so long, which meant Remus had hours alone to stew on his more self-deprecating thoughts. 

He was always more withdrawn around the moon. Some of it was the side effects; the sickness and pain that came with lycanthropy, but Hermione also knew he questioned himself every time the moon came around. Questioned whether he should be at Hogwarts; why he had been offered the chance to get an education when so many other lycanthropes were denied; whether he was becoming the danger he always feared he was. 

She felt guilty about leaving him alone with his thoughts but also knew he would only grow more withdrawn if he thought she denied herself things for his sake so, instead she resolved to bring him something back from the village. 

“Can we go to Honeydukes? I want to get Remus something.”

Kingsley was already nodding when he replied, “Of course, worried about him?”

“Hmm, not really. I’m sure he’s fine. Probably driving Madam Pomfrey mad actually. I just feel bad he won’t be able to replenish his chocolate stash, he is quite serious about it.” 

Chuckling at her reply, he nodded again, “Ahh - to Honeydukes then.”

The shop was crowded as ever when they entered. Third years who were still enthralled by the multitude of options filled the aisles along with older students all intent on hunting down their favourite snack. It would have been difficult to move, but Kingsley held her close and used his height advantage to navigate them quickly through the chaos. 

She was collecting chocolate frogs for Remus when it happened. One moment she was debating how much chocolate it would take to make up the missed trip to her brother, and the next glass was shattering around her. 

The screaming started immediately. Cries of pain and fear filled the air around her, but that wasn’t what Hermione was focused on. Instead, she felt her surroundings fade away as she stared out onto the street, horrified. 

There dressed all in black were the robes she recognised all too well from her other memories. She had never seen them before _here,_ but the masks were distinctive, and Hermione knew they could be nothing else. Death Eaters. 

With that thought, her mind snapped back into focus. Making eye contact with Kingsley, they both knew how bad this was. The village was filled with students, few of whom would be equipped to fight adult attackers, and there were even fewer Professors on duty to help. 

Around her, she could see the older students were trying desperately to reassure the younger years, but they all knew there was little they could do. And the initial cries of surprise were growing increasingly louder with their distress. 

“Get back to the castle!” Kingsley’s voice roared over the noise as he adopted a stance that made him resemble his older self more than ever before. 

He was looking back at her now, and she realised they both knew what they needed to do. There was only one entrance into the shop, one that the masked figures were rapidly approaching. They wouldn’t be any safer on the open streets, but at least they wouldn’t be trapped - especially as she didn’t know what their attackers were planning. 

Nodding to each other they advanced on the door. Neither of them was adequately trained, and despite the other memories experience, they did little to help her here. Here she was throwing playground hexes and _stupefies_ at adults trained in the Dark Arts, and she had never felt more helpless. 

Somehow, they made it out onto the street. The whole town was in chaos. The Death Eater’s had apparated into the village and immediately started throwing _bombardas_ in the directions of shops, trying to destroy as much of the picturesque scene as possible. 

She had no time to contemplate what they wanted, focused only on holding up her shield charms while children ran in the direction of the castle. Behind her, she heard more screaming and suddenly felt white-hot flames burst into existence as the store they had just evacuated was set ablaze. 

The sickly scent of burning sugar filled the air as flames enveloped the sweet shop, but it was soon drowned out by the thick black smoke emanating from the other stores that had been attacked. 

She was surrounded by smoke, and flames, and the flashing of spells that were being fired off in all directions. She didn’t know where the Professors were, or any of her other friends. She had even lost Kingsley in the madness of ensuring everyone was out of Honeydukes. Alone she could only throw _protego_ after _protego_ and pray. 

In the distance, she caught a glimpse of James and Lily fighting side by side. The two of them working so naturally together you never would have known it was the first time they were casting hexes together rather than at each other. 

She still could not see Pandora, or Sirius, or Kingsley but was thanking Merlin that Remus was safe in the castle. She was terrified, of course, but the idea of her brother being trapped in this when he was vulnerable was so much worse. She knew he was good at defence, better than her even, but so much of that depended on him not being too exhausted to fight and she dreaded to think what would have happened had he been there. 

Most of the younger years had fled towards the gates of Hogwarts, but the older students were still trying valiantly to fight. It brought up images of the last battle Hermione had fought in, but she shoved them aside. There was no time for reminiscing on memories that weren’t entirely hers. Not when she could still feel the heat radiating from Honeydukes and smell sulphur mixing into the thick smoke as people fired off stunning charms. 

Instead, she focused on making her way towards James and Lily, hoping there truly was safety in numbers. For all she, and the rest of the students, were trying to fight though, the Death Eaters seemed more intent on destroying the village. At least until she heard a familiar cackling laugh and that chilling voice screech, 

“Oh, this one’s a mudblood! We’ve heard all about her.” 

For a moment, Hermione thought Bellatrix was referring to her and felt fear grip even tighter around her chest. But then she heard James shout out “LILY!” followed by a cry of pain. 

Spinning in their direction, Hermione had the strangest moment of deja vu. The whole attack had felt reminiscent of the Battle of Hogwarts, but this moment was so stark she barely noticed as the robed figures disapparated. 

Instead, she looked on in horror at the familiar image of Harry dead on the floor of the Great Hall, with a sobbing redhead leant over his body. She was taken back for a second but then had a sudden moment of realisation. 

That was not Harry, and the snow beneath the body was rapidly turning red. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IM SORRY !!!
> 
> TW: Violence (Please let me know if I should add any others I am v. happy to - ty)


	10. The Red Sheets

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IM SORRRYYY  
> it had to happen - things were much to comfy and hermione needed a reminder that bad things can still happen  
> but also you'll notice it is not is not sunday  
> while the teeny tiny slytherin part of me loved reading your panicked reviews at that cliffhanger the rest of me which is very much a hufflepuff felt so guitly that your getting an extra chapter this week - so hopefully that makes up for it ???  
> either way - i hope you enjoy  
> pinterest board : https://pin.it/uprmPZT
> 
> TW in end notes

**November 1976**

Hermione was frozen. Stuck rooted on the spot watching the scene in horror. She couldn’t hear the screaming or feel the ash as it fell like snow around her. She could only stare at the scene; Lily crying out, James lying there, blood slowly seeping further into the snow. 

Watching the pool grow was what brought her out of her shock. She couldn’t let James die. Not when she still had so much to do, not when Harry hadn’t been born, not when he and Lily weren’t even dating yet. 

She ran to the couple. Kneeling, she barely noticed as the red snow soaked her clothing. Lily was pleading through sobs, “James, James, please, just stay awake. Please!”

Her hands were covered in blood, but Hermione couldn’t tell where it was coming from. She didn’t have time to comfort Lily. She had to focus on stopping the bleeding. 

Ripping his robes open Hermione felt her breath leave her. There, torn across his side was an injury all too familiar to her. The last time she had seen a cut like this, it had killed an older Kingsley Shacklebolt, leaving her truly alone in the world. 

This one was worse somehow, though. Kingsley hadn’t been directly hit, it had only caught him by chance, but this spell had hit James at full force, and the cut was worrying to a different degree. Torn across his abdomen, it spanned from his ribs down to his navel, like he sustained it jumping in front of something and suddenly Hermione knew exactly what had happened. 

Still, it was a gruesome looking thing, gaping, with rough edges. Not the long, neat cuts of a  _ Sectumsempra,  _ but something designed to be less efficient and far more painful.

She could feel bile rising up her throat at the sight of the wound but forced it down. She couldn’t afford to get sick now. She couldn’t let James die. He was too important. Besides, this was different. She didn’t have to save him; she just had to keep him alive long enough that somebody else could. 

Gripping her wand in blood-soaked fingers, she began casting every healing charm she could think of, but none of them were working fast enough. Tearing off her coat, she pressed it down firmly against the wound. Ignoring James’ cry of pain at the action, she turned her attention to Lily. 

“Evans!” She snapped, fear making her tone sharp, “You’ve got to hold this for me. It’s going to hurt him, but it’s the only thing keeping him alive, so you  _ have to  _ keep the pressure on it. Understand?” 

Lily nodded, wiping tears from her eyes, she smeared blood across her cheek, a stark red against ivory skin, and Hermione could only imagine what she looked like. Taking her place next to her, Lily leant all her weight on the fabric, trying desperately to stem the bleeding. Through it all, she kept talking to James, 

“James, it’s going to be okay…” 

Hermione ignored her, returning to casting charms, trying to close the wound hidden under Lily’s hands.

“Potter,  _ come on _ , you’re far too stubborn to let this kill you.” 

For the first time since she reached the pair, James did something other than cry in pain, “James,” he muttered, incoherent, “you called me James.”

“Yes,” Lily sobbed, “James, I’ll call you James, just stay with us.  _ Please. _ ”

Hermione barely noticed them, so intent on keeping him alive. She didn’t notice anything until she felt a hand fall on her shoulder and looked up into Kingsley’s eyes. Madam Pomfrey was next to him, and Professor McGonagall was in the distance trying to impose some kind of order on the chaos around them. 

Feeling relief rush through her at the sight of the Matron she turned to her, looking beseechingly, begging for direction. 

“I couldn’t get him to stop bleeding,” she started, “Evans is keeping pressure on it, but nothing I’m casting can work fast enough to get it to close.” 

Madam Pomfrey nodded at her explanation, already kneeling next to her. She started casting too, spells Hermione hadn’t been taught yet but was suddenly determined to learn. She couldn’t risk something like this happening again. 

Eventually, Kingsley dragged her away. Madam Pomfrey had taken over her role, so she was no longer needed. He pulled her into his arms, and Hermione could feel her breath coming out in gasps as adrenaline finally stopped coursing through her.

She was shaking by the time she could breathe normally, her coat lost to keeping James alive and the rest of her clothes soaked in blood and snow, making her tremble in the frigid air. 

Kingsley noticed and slipped his robes around her shoulders. She tried to protest; she didn’t want to ruin them any further than she already had. But he insisted, and she gladly wrapped them tighter around herself. 

At some point, Sirius had reappeared and looked stricken at the sight of James. By that point though, Madam Pomfrey had stabilised him enough to start moving him to the infirmary. 

The Hospital Wing was in chaos when they arrived. Thankfully, James’ injury seemed to be the most severe. The others only suffering from mild cuts and burns. Instead, the main cause of the disruption was her brother, who was trying desperately to escape past Professor Sprout, and despite how ill he had looked hours earlier he was putting up a surprisingly good fight. 

“Mr Lupin! What is the meaning of this?!”

He ignored her, still trying to leave the ward. “Where is my sister,” he growled at the professor, “and what is happening?”

Even as he said it, he fell silent, James’ body floating into the ward stunning him. Seconds later though he was fighting harder than before, Moony was closer to the surface than ever. Fear drawing him out, making him more temperamental than usual, even this close to the full moon. 

She ran out of Kingsley’s arms before he could hurt himself in his attempts to find her, and she felt Sirius run up behind her. 

“Remus. It’s okay. I’m right here. I’m fine.” she pleaded. 

He looked down at her and blanched at her blood-soaked clothes. 

“It’s not mine,” she reassured, “It’s James’ ”

The reminder of his friend’s state shocked Remus back into silence, and instead of continuing to fight, he swayed on the spot, energy finally leaving him. Hermione went to catch him before he could fall, and Sirius took his other side, helping her support his weight.

“What happened?” Remus sounded defeated, and she and Sirius forced him back into bed before explaining. 

“The village was attacked,” Sirius’ voice was thick, and she noticed for the first time he likely had a broken nose, but the thought was quickly dismissed as her brother started trying to get out of bed again. 

“I’m fine,” she reassured, “we all are. I think James was the worst of it.” 

She didn’t mention that she still didn’t know where Pandora was, that Sirius had only appeared once the fighting was over, that by the time she got to James it was almost too late. She didn’t tell him that now she was away from it all she could remember the fear she hadn’t felt in the moment. The terror she felt when she realised she was alone and the helplessness she felt at the thought she was about to watch her second Potter die. 

Instead, she stroked his hand softly and looked over at Sirius, whose face was slowly bruising, blood drying under his nose. Behind him, the rest of the Hospital Wing was crowded too. Even though most of the injuries had been minor, there were plenty of them, and Madam Pomfrey was busy keeping James alive. 

She was exhausted, but the staff were overworked, and her limited MediWitch training from full moons would be enough to help. So, she sighed and grabbed a Pepper-Up Potion from where the Matron hid them, turning to Sirius and examining his face. 

Casting a quick  _ episky,  _ she turned back to both boys, “I’m going to help here, but you should both try and get some rest.” They nodded in agreement, and she turned back towards the ward. 

Hermione didn’t know how long she worked. She treated cut after cut, tending to mild burns or smoke inhalation. The whole time Madam Pomfrey kept working on James, and Professors Sprout and Slughorn appeared periodically with plants and potions to help. 

The hospital wing looked like a scene out of a Muggle disaster movie. Everyone lined up, waiting for help. They were all covered in abrasions, ash discolouring their skin, shocked expressions as they tried desperately to reassure each other that they were safe. They worked efficiently, treating those with more threatening injuries first, but even then, her bloodied clothes had dried on her body by the time he reappeared. 

She didn’t notice him at first. Focused entirely on healing the few remaining students, but by the time she was done with those, Kingsley was sat by the entrance waiting for her. 

Suddenly feeling her exhaustion once again she slumped against him, 

“Hey,” he whispered, “how are you doing?”

“Tired, worried, I don’t know.” And she honestly didn’t, most of her felt numb to the day’s events. The hours of panic and pushing away her fears to focus on helping those around her had deadened those emotions. 

Thankfully, Kingsley seemed to know what she needed to hear, “We just finished the headcount. Everyone’s okay. Potter’s as bad as it got.” 

Neither of them knew what to do at that point. She could only sigh in relief that nobody had been injured more gravely.

Eventually, she found it in her to speak again, “I’m exhausted.”

“I know - come on.”

He tried leading her out of the Hospital Wing, but she shook her head. 

“I just need to check on James. Madam Pomfrey said he should be okay, that he just needs rest, but I have to see for myself.”

Kingsley nodded in understanding, and they both made their way over to his bed. Peeking through the curtains they could make out two figures in the moonlit bay. James was asleep on his back, totally still but with one hand tangled in the long red locks of Lily Evans as she slept in the chair next to him, slumped over to lean on his bed. 

Hermione smiled at the sight and left the two of them to their moment of privacy, sneaking back over to her brother’s bay to check on him. He too had a visitor, Sirius dozing in the chair next to his bed, while Remus was completely passed out. Shaking his shoulder gently, Sirius started awake before calming at the sight of her. 

“Mini,” his voice was rough with sleep.

“Hey,” she whispered “I’m all done, but I’ve got to clean up, so could you stay with him.” her voice shook slightly as she asked.

She wished she could stay with her brother. She knew he would panic on waking if she wasn’t there, but she had to get out of the infirmary. Now that she was no longer running on Pepper-Up and adrenaline, all of her emotions were a little too close to the surface.

“Oh, Kitten,” he replied, gently rubbing a hand up and down her bicep, “Of course, I’ll stay. Go get some sleep, yeah.” 

She nodded, and he drew her into a quick hug before she turned back to Kingsley, slipping her hand into his. She waved a goodbye to Sirius, who was back in the chair but staring at their joined hands with furrowed eyebrows, “Night, Sirius, thank you.” 

She let Kingsley guide her through the Halls, but it soon became clear they weren’t going in the direction of Ravenclaw Tower. Something that made her stop suddenly and turn to look at him, confused. 

“Where are we going?”

He looked down at her a little sheepishly, “Heads dorms.”

Still confused, she frowned at him, “What?”

“It’s been a long day. I don’t want to leave you alone.”

“But what about Pandora?” she didn’t know why she was questioning him. Truthfully, the idea of spending the night with him felt reassuring after the day they had, but she couldn’t stop herself from asking. 

“I told her I would offer when we were checking on the Ravenclaws. Do you want to come with me?” his asked, tone suddenly unsure and she rushed to answer him. 

“Oh. Um. Yes. Please?” It shouldn’t have been a question, and yet it was. 

He chuckled softly and pulled her closer to him, starting to walk again. 

“But what about my clothes? And I need to shower.” Again she couldn’t stop the questions from escaping her, but Kingsley seemed to find them endearing. 

“I’m sure we’ll figure something out.”

They had been purposefully avoiding the Heads dorms until this point. Knowing that the privacy it afforded may encourage them to go further than they perhaps should this early in their relationship. But tonight, Hermione wasn’t thinking about that. Instead, she was focused on the comfort that came from sharing a bed. 

When they were younger, she used to crawl into Remus’ bed whenever they had nightmares. Somehow, she had always known when he had one and needed the reassurance of having someone close by, but she had plenty of her own too. They had both been plagued by them after Greyback’s attack, and often the only thing that had been able to calm either of them down was the other’s presence. 

Since Hogwarts though they had stopped. Age making it awkward, as it had changed so many other aspects of their relationship. She hadn’t shared a bed in years, but after the stress of everything, the idea of sharing with Kingsley seemed like it would provide the comfort she desperately needed. 

She had never seen the Heads dorm before, but they were somehow exactly as she imagined. Decorated in a variety of colours, it favoured no one House, though, the plaques on the two-bedroom doors were their respective red and yellow. 

They snuck through a tiny common room, ducking into the room marked  _ Kingsley Shacklebolt, Headboy 1976-77 _ . Once they were in there though neither of them seemed to know what to do. 

An awkward silence fell over them as Hermione looked around the room, Gryffindor red sheets on a large bed and a second door that could only lead to the bathroom. Taking the out when she saw it, she turned to him, 

“Um, I think I’ll shower now. If that’s okay?”

He looked relieved one of them had spoken and nodded quickly. 

“Oh, of course. There should be towels in there but let me grab you a change of clothes,” he said, glancing down at her bloodied attire, “Take as long as you need. I’ll just be out here.” 

Hidden away in the bathroom, Hermione let out a sigh of relief. She didn’t know why that wave of awkwardness had washed over them, but she was glad to be free of it. Looking around the room, she thought it was like a smaller version of the prefect's bathroom, but with a large shower tucked into the corner. 

Ridding herself over her ruined clothes, she stepped under the hot water and began washing away the day. It wasn’t until she started to wash her hair that she realised how bad she must have looked - water murky with ash and blood.

She hadn’t realised how covered in it she had been, but as the water ran red, she could only see James lying there motionless and hear the screams that had echoed around the village through the attack. Scrubbing at her skin until it was pink, she tried desperately to remove any evidence of what had happened.

Finally convinced she was clean, Hermione felt ready to leave the safety of the shower. Stepping out into the misty room, she cast a drying charm over herself, carefully avoiding her hair, instead, wrapping it in a towel, she looked over the clothes Kingsley had left her. 

Slipping the quidditch jersey over her shoulders, the oversized shirt fell to mid-thigh covering her easily. Looking at the bottoms though she knew no amount of rolling would get them to fit and settled on wearing the jersey as a nightgown. 

Hesitantly reentering the room, she found Kingsley sitting up in the large bed reading. His hair was slightly damp, though she didn’t know how as she had just occupied his shower for the better part of an hour, and he was already in his pyjamas. 

Looking up at her entrance, he smiled and flipped the other side of the bedsheets up next to him. Climbing in, she felt worry building back up in her chest, but it faded when he smiled at her again, whispering, “How are you doing now?”

“Okay, I think,” she replied, equally quiet like they were both afraid to break the silence.

“Yeah?”

“I think so, just tired. It’s been a long day.” She didn’t know if it was true. Honestly, she still didn’t know how she felt and without the distraction of scrubbing herself clean, she found she didn’t know what to do with herself. 

Still, he nodded at her reply, and the room fell quiet once again. Both of them staring into the distance thinking back over the attack. As she thought about it though Hermione felt tears build up in her eyes and could do nothing to stop them from spilling over. 

She had felt so helpless in the moment but looking back now she somehow felt more so. Even with all her extra memories, she hadn’t known what was coming and could have done nothing to stop it. 

It was a stark reminder that for all she may plan, so many things could go wrong. She could not afford to be complacent. She had almost lost James today, five years before she was supposed to have to worry about it, and so many other things could still go wrong. 

That thought forced a sob out of her chest, and Kingsley turned to her quickly, “Hey, hey. It’s okay.”

“James,” she cried, “he almost died,” the last word broke as it left her mouth. 

“I know, I know,” he soothed, pulling her into his arms, “but you saved him. You did so well.”

Still, she could not stop crying, stress finally leaving her body, after it had been building up ever since the glass first shattered. There in the silence of his room, she could only think about how she had almost lost James to the same curse she lost the man whose bed she was sharing. About how she could still lose them both, lose so many other people, and whether her plan would still be worth it if she lost them anyway. 

Distantly she heard him still speaking, and forced herself to focus on his voice, calming her frantic breaths “You took care of everyone so well. Just let me take care of you now, yeah.” 

She kept crying but breathed easier at his words. Snuggling deeper into his chest and feeling his arms tighten even more around her, she finally fell asleep, exhausted. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also - I've realised some of you may think theres significance to James and Kingsley having the same injury and I'm honestly flattered if you think I could come up with something like that but unfortunately thats not quite true.  
> I just wanted to make it super clear quite how much danger James was in. Like he would have died had Hermione not started performing First Aid on him pretty much immediately and I felt the best way to show that was by showing that someone else already had died from it - hope that makes sense 💖
> 
> TW: Violence, Injury


	11. The Morning After

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy sunday !!  
> just a reminder/warning i posted an extra chapter this week because i was feeling SO GUILTY about that cliffhanger - so if you haven't read chapter 10 yet pleassssee make sure to read that first or you'll be super confused  
> otherwise - i'm so happy you guys are enjoying the story and tysm for all the lovely comments - they really make my day and like motivate me to keep writing so i cannot thank y'all enough  
> pinterest board : https://pin.it/uprmPZT
> 
> TW in end notes

**November 1976**

James woke slowly, feeling the sunlight hit his face and his body slowly come back to life. Once he was awake though he could feel a dull ache coming from his abdomen and the previous day’s events came rushing back to him. 

How he and Lily had been covering prefect duty, laughing about how nothing ever happened and then it very suddenly had. Explosions ringing through the village, stunning the pub into silence. He and Lily had quickly made eye contact and spoken a thousand words in those few brief seconds. 

They had been together outside when it happened. The two of them trying desperately to keep their attackers at bay while younger students ran towards the gates of Hogwarts. At first, their assailants hadn’t seemed interested in harming them, instead focused on creating fear and destroying the village. But, at some point one of the masked figures had locked onto Lily. 

He’d been surprised when he heard a woman’s voice among their attackers, but the thought had been quickly dismissed as she called Lily that foul word and started casting ever more dangerous spells in her direction. 

James couldn’t say what had possessed him, only that he knew he couldn’t let Lily get hit by whatever curses were being cast at her. She had been defending herself well, proficient as ever in her work but there had just been one that slipped through her defences. He didn’t remember thinking about it. He was just suddenly leaping in front of her and then blinding pain. 

He couldn’t remember much after that. Just pain, and fear, and looking up into the emerald of Lily’s eyes and thinking maybe, just maybe, he would be alright. 

Now though, he was awake and aware of his surroundings. Noticing for the first time, the feeling of his fingers tangled in something and the figure slumped over next to him. Sunlight reflected off her hair, making the auburn locks glow. He didn’t know how he got into this position, asleep with his fingers entwined in her hair, but he thought he could happily wake like this for the rest of his life. 

But as with everything else to do with Lily, the reality was so different to the fantasy, and he was still in a hospital bed. Gently removing his hand from her hair, he could feel her stirring and watched as she blinked awake, finally meeting his eyes. 

“Potter,” she breathed out quickly, “You’re awake. How are you?”

He wasn’t sure how to answer her question. How was he? Confused mainly, but he settled on asking what happened instead. 

“What do you remember?” Her response was asked with furrowed brows, and concern splashed across her face. 

“Uhh, the village was attacked, and we were trying to make sure the younger years could get away when one of them started attacking you.”

Throughout his explanation, she was nodding along with his account. It wasn’t until the last part that her face grew grave. 

“Yeah, one of them was cursing me directly, and you jumped in front of me, you great prat.” Even as she said it, she let out a small sniffle betraying the anger of her words. 

“Ahhh. What happened after that?”

“Honestly, I don’t really remember. They all disapparated, and you were just lying there. Hermione appeared at some point and started trying to heal you, but nothing she did was working so we basically just had to try and keep you alive for Madam Pomfrey.”

“Oh. Then what? Is everyone else okay?”

She nodded again, taking a moment before replying “Yeah, everyone else is fine. Some of the little ones are a bit shaken up, and there were a few cuts and bruises, but you were the worst of it.”

That reassured him on some level. James didn’t deny it had hurt. He could remember the searing pain of the first cut that had only been exacerbated by Hermione’s attempts to save him, but he would far rather go through that than have someone else injured worse. 

“Okay. Good.”

“Good! Potter, you almost died! You would have if it weren’t for Hermione.”

“Maybe, but better me than someone else.”

As he said it, Lily was stunned into silence looking at him with the most bizarre expression. A mixture of worry and disbelief but James, for once, didn’t care what she thought. He’d gladly do it again if it meant one of his friends wasn’t put in harm’s way. 

As he was thinking about it though Madam Pomfrey appeared in the bay, “Miss Evans, I agreed to let you stay on the condition you told me the moment he awoke.”

Before the Matron could get any further into her berating James cut in, “Sorry Madam Pomfrey, that’s my fault, I insisted she told me what happened first.”

Lily gave him a look of thanks and went to leave saying a quiet, “Goodbye then Potter. Glad you’re feeling okay.”

As she said it though, James suddenly remembered a moment of clarity from the haze of pain that was the previous day. 

“James,” he said softly, “you said you’d call me James.”

She gave him a small smile and nodded, “Okay then, James. Thank you.” Her voice was quiet as she said the last part, and then she quickly left the bay for good. 

Alone, the Matron went to examine her patient. Opening the infirmary striped pyjamas, James saw the effects of the curse he’d taken. Across his abdomen, the scar was a dark purple that spoke to its newness. It was huge, with arms reaching across his torso and the whole thing was surrounded by deep greenish-purple bruising. 

He had plenty of scars from quidditch and from wrestling with Moony, but this was something else entirely. Magic was usually able to heal scarring until it was almost invisible, and bruising could be cured in hours with the right potions. That the scar still looked this bad the next day spoke volumes about how injured he had been. 

Madam Pomfrey tutted at the wound and finally addressed her patient, “You’re very lucky, Mr Potter. I fear if Miss Lupin hadn’t been there, we wouldn’t be having this conversation. As it is, I’ll have to keep you here for a couple of days, but you’ll be alright.”

It wasn’t ideal. James knew the full moon was that night but considering he almost didn’t make it through yesterday he couldn’t complain. Instead, he nodded in agreement and let the Matron continue applying whichever pastes were necessary to heal him. 

“Can I see Remus at least - since he’s already here?”

Madam Pomfrey smiled at his question. They both knew he was aware of Remus’ lycanthropy, but neither of them mentioned it. 

“Yes. You may see Mr Lupin, although Mr Black will probably have to bring him to you. I don’t want you up and about just yet.”

Again, James couldn’t argue with her. He didn’t much feel like moving, but the idea of being stuck alone in bed all-day made him feel like he was going mad. 

Finished with her task Madam Pomfrey left the hospital bay telling him she’d send up breakfast shortly and soon after Sirius rounded the curtain to his bed with a moon-weakened Remus. Quickly transfiguring the chair Lily had vacated, the two took a seat. 

For a few seconds, they sat in silence, none of them knowing what to say, but eventually, Remus spoke up, “How are you feeling Prongs?”

“Eh - I’ve felt better.” Neither of his friends looked amused at his reply, and part of him felt guilty. He didn’t know how he would have reacted had one of them almost died yesterday. “I’m not too bad all things considered. What about you two? What happened to you?”

Glancing at each other briefly Sirius spoke first, “Hestia and I were enjoying some _alone time_ out by the shack when we heard the explosions. Took a bit of fighting to get properly into the village and by the time we got there, everything was over. Saw Pomfrey taking you up here though.”

It made sense. He hadn’t seen Sirius during the attack. Not that there had been much time to notice in the confusion. Sirius having said his piece they both turned to Remus. 

“I was just up here reading when Sprout ran in saying there had been an attack down in the village and Pomfrey took off. Not long after that, people started showing up here. No one looked too badly injured, but Moony still went a little crazy not knowing what was happening with you guys or Hermione. Once you were all back though I pretty much passed out. “

Through his whole explanation, Sirius nodded, “Yeah, you passed out while Mini was still healing people.”

“Hermione was healing people?” James questioned. He knew she had worked on him. Lily and Madam Pomfrey had both made it clear he owed her a life debt, but he hadn’t realised she had been here healing more people afterwards. 

“Yeah, she stuck around here for ages helping out. She left with Shacklebolt eventually, though I think she wanted to stay. She asked me to stay with Moony.”

There was something strange about Sirius’ tone as he mentioned it, almost unhappy about Shacklebolt but pleased Hermione had asked him to remain in her place. James was sure there was more to it if he cared to look, but as of that moment, he had other things on his mind. 

“Pomfrey’s keeping me here for a few days so I won’t be able to make it out for the moon tonight.”

He hated the thought of abandoning Remus but knew there was no way to escape the hospital wing under the watchful eye of Madam Pomfrey. He also knew even if he could escape he wouldn’t be much help, but he looked at his friends with apology in his eyes anyway. 

Remus spoke first, “Prongs, of course, we’re not expecting you for the moon.” Remus’ expression suggested he was stupid for even mentioning it, but Sirius had no reservations in telling him. 

“You idiot. Pete and I will just stay in the shack with him.”

The mention of his fourth friend raised questions James hadn’t considered until then. 

“Where is Wormtail anyway?”

Sirius and Remus glanced at each other and shrugged. 

“He never showed up here yesterday - I assumed he just got caught up in the madness,” Remus explained before Sirius continued. 

“Well, Shacklebolt told Mini everyone was accounted for, so I reckon he’s sleeping in the dorm, lucky git.”

They all chucked at Sirius’ reasoning, and with his friend's absence explained James’ mind finally turned back to the question that had been plaguing him since he woke, “Was it them?”

All three boys fell silent at the question. Technically no one knew who had been responsible for the attack, but privately they were all too aware. 

They had been a silent force over the past few years. Responsible for suspicious deaths and seemingly random disappearances but last Christmas they had all received a startling awakening about quite how dangerous their hidden enemy was.

Sirius, who had avoided his home as much as possible since his sorting had been summoned back. It was a strange occurrence, Walburga and Orion Black were usually content to ignore the existence of their oldest son, but they had explicitly called him home that year. 

It had made them all anxious. Not knowing why the Blacks were suddenly taking an interest in their heir. But, the reality of what happened had been so much worse than anything they imagined. 

James didn’t know any details of Sirius’ time trapped in Grimmauld Place, but he heard his parents discussing what treatments to give him after his friend had appeared through the floo. How Sirius had been tortured, had the cruciatus cast upon him so many times they worried he would have nerve damage. 

Thankfully, they had avoided doing any lasting damage, but James could still see his friend’s body bloodied and broken in their entrance. Some morbid part of him wondered who had more scars now they had both faced off against them. 

Sirius hadn’t said much about what happened and James didn’t push him. For all Sirius was as extroverted as himself, some things were private, and that was one of them. 

He told them the basics, though. How he had been expected to fall into the Pureblood party line. To denounce his friends in Gryffindor and take the mark of the wizard his parents claimed was going to cleanse wizarding society.

He also told them how he had defied them and how his refusal had earned him his punishment. They didn’t discuss any more than that. Details too personal to share even among friends, but it had taught them all who had been working in the shadows. 

It was Sirius who answered his question, “Nothing officially, of course, but we all know it was.” 

Remus nodded along, “The _Prophet_ is saying they were unknown masked assailants, but anyone who has been paying attention knows it’s them. Even if they don’t know specifics, they know who was responsible.”

“Why now, though?” James questioned. 

“They’re feeling confident, nobody’s stopped them over the past few years, and they had to step up at some point.”

Sirius’ answer made sense, they could only spend so long operating out of sight, but it worried him too. 

“This isn’t the end is it.”

“No, Prongs. Not by a long shot.”

* * *

Hermione was warm when she woke, cocooned in blankets that smelled like sandalwood and cloves in a scent she had come to associate with Kingsley. 

As sleep left her though she remembered how she ended up in that position. How Kingsley had held her as she cried herself to sleep. Thinking of the wizard did create questions though, because as warm as she was, Hermione was alone in bed. 

Forcing her eyes open, she took stock of the room around her. Everything was as it had been the night before, save for the rumpled bedsheets to her left and the missing wizard. 

As she thought it though he appeared at the doorway, two mugs in his hands and a newspaper under one arm. Hermione felt relief wash over her at the domestic scene, reassured she was no longer alone. Climbing back into the bed next to her, he handed her one of the mugs and the _Prophet_ without a word. 

For a moment she smiled at the fact he remembered how she took her tea but then glanced down at the paper.

**STUDENTS ATTACKED IN HOGSMEADE**

MASKED ASSAILANTS TO BLAME

Looking back up at him, Hermione finally broke the silence, “What are people saying?”

“Not much. Next trip’s been cancelled, but no one really knows what happened, so it’s all just speculation.” 

Nodding, at his reply Hermione turned her attention back to him and suddenly felt awkward about the previous night’s events. They had been on dates and spent plenty of time together in dark corridors, but they weren’t really at the point in their relationship that crying in each other's arms was acceptable. 

As awkward as she felt about it now, she couldn’t deny the comfort it had brought her last night. How the feeling of his arms wrapped tight around her made her feel safe in a way she didn’t think she had since waking on the Solstice. 

She meant to thank him for letting her stay, but instead, a different question came out, “Why did you ask me to Hogsmeade?”

It wasn’t what she meant to ask him at all, but it was a question that had been bothering her since he had first asked, so she was invested in his reply. 

Chuckling at her question, Kingsley drew her into his arms, taking care not to jostle her tea, and propped her up against his chest. It made the conversation feel so much more intimate being that close. It was hard to look into each other’s eyes, but still, he looked down at her and Hermione was captivated by their dark, swirling depths. 

“You're something of a legend in Gryffindor, did you know?”

She didn’t and raised an eyebrow in question. 

“Hmm, you are. Something about your relationship with your brother and his friends makes you quite the topic of conversation in the tower. I knew who you were from that and found myself intrigued.”

“Really?”

“Yes - so I told myself I’d find out more about you. And as I did, I only had more questions. Who was this little Ravenclaw who had no fear in meeting the lions in their own territory, or who read Mastery level works in her free time? The more I discovered, the more I needed to know, and so I figured why not? I’ll be gone next year, so why not take the chance.”

Hermione didn’t know what response she had been expecting, but she couldn’t deny he intrigued her too. That she had enjoyed their debates in the library and learning more about this version of him; so similar and yet different to his older self. That she had relished the feeling of his increasingly heated gaze throughout the month before he asked her to Hogsmeade, so she smiled at his answer, prompting his own question. 

“Why’d you say yes?”

“I guess I wanted to know more too.” 

He smirked at her answer and drew her into a kiss. Taking her mug from her without breaking it, he placed it on the side table and pulled her even closer. It was so much more intimate than anything they had done before. 

It was sweeter than their previous explorations, but something about being curled up in his bed, wearing his jersey and wrapped in his arms gave the whole thing an air of intimacy she hadn’t experienced yet. 

She liked it, though. The feel of his lips on hers, gentle instead of demanding, that softness she’d felt the first time he kissed her before things had turned heated. He kept his lips light this time, deepening the kiss but without their usual frantic energy. 

One of his hands left her waist slowly like he was afraid to spook her, but she found she only looked forward to discovering where it went. She felt it moments later on her knee, stroking gently up her outer thigh. Like everything else about this, it was intimate in a way they hadn’t experienced before. For all he had rubbed circles on her knees in the library, his hands had never strayed higher up her legs than that. Explorations kept strictly to their upper halves. 

But here, in the quiet of his room, without the usual desperate need their kisses held, he cautiously soothed up her leg in a way that made her thighs clench and made her keen against him. 

She was hot, and the same spinning sensation that usually overtook her was present, but it was muted somehow too. Like the sleepy pace, he kissed her was keeping her right on that edge. Instead, she felt tingly all over and could only focus on his lips gentle against hers and his hand as it cupped her arse, exposed by the jersey of his she was still wearing. 

She didn’t know which one of them deepened the kiss even further but keeping the same sedate pace he pushed her back against the pillows, and she revelled in the weight of him against her. 

Hands moved. Hers slipping up the back of his shirt, feeling the cool skin and toned muscles that only made the tension in her abdomen tighten. He pulled away only briefly to remove his shirt, but it still felt like too long for their lips to be parted, and as his returned to hers she was free to run her hands over him. 

While she explored, he did too, venturing from the safety of her outer thighs to their sensitive inners, making her cry against him—the feeling of his fingers touching the soft skin, making shivers run through her body. 

She didn’t know when they had got so close, but she could feel the length of him, hot and hard, against her hip as his fingers continued their teasing touches, never quite moving high enough. 

Almost unthinkingly, she moaned, “ _Please_.”

She could feel him groan against her, and finally, _finally_ , he reached higher. Fingers brushing her outer lips teasingly. The first stroke had her shuddering against him, mewling into his mouth, wanting to beg for more but unable to find the words. 

He knew what she wanted, but he kept his touches delicate. Fingers stroking her gently, making her gasp against him, hips rolling as she tried desperately to find friction. 

Still, she needed more. Finally, finding the words, she begged again, “Kingsley, please.”

Chuckling against her lips, he gently explored her entrance, and she bucked against him at the sensation. He too groaned at the feeling of her writhing against him, panting heavily against her neck.

He kept up his light strokes, fingers curling within her, and Hermione felt herself nearing a precipice.

“More, please,” she whined, unable to stop herself, needing him to touch her more. To touch the one spot, he’d so far avoided. 

Finally, he touched her, where she needed him most, and she cried gently against his lips. The strokes of his thumb against her clit left her desperately searching for purchase, hands gripping the bedsheets as her breath left her in shuddery gasps. His fingers continued their motions within and the combined sensations made her tremble with need. 

A few more deliberate touches and Hermione felt the world go white as waves rolled through her. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Injury, Sexual Content


	12. The Aftermath

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy sunday!!  
> hope everyone had a wonderful christmas (or whatever you celebrate, i hope it was great) - i personally got a little merry on christmas eve and accidently told my sister i was writing this which she then took it upon herself to find 😳  
> she told me she wasn't going to read it so fingercrossed thats true - but Chiplet if you are reading this PLEASE STOP i don't think i can take the knowledge my baby sister is reading this (dw she's 18 she'll just always be the bb to me lol)  
> also i have started posting this on FFN if that's ur prefered website (plus i put less AN's there so if you're tired of reading them please feel free to head over there - i just like talking to y'all)  
> anyway - the chapter  
> pinterest board: https://pin.it/Uhesip0

**Winter 1976**

She and Kingsley had fallen back asleep following their early morning activities. Both still exhausted by the previous day’s events but also by the new heights their relationship had risen to. 

When she woke again, the sun was high in the sky, illuminating the room and bathing Kingsley in soft yellow light. She wished she could stay, and they could continue their explorations of each other, but Hermione knew she had to see Pandora. 

Her clothes were on the chair she had left them and grimacing she cast a quick _scourgify_ over her tights. Looking at the rest of her blood ruined clothes though Hermione couldn’t bring herself to put them on and instead fashioned Kingsley’s quidditch jersey into a dress, praying she wouldn’t run into anyone while wearing it. 

Borrowing a quill and parchment, she left Kingsley a note thanking him for taking care of her and explaining her absence before brushing a kiss across his temple as he slept on. 

The halls were quiet and had a sombre air like everyone was still processing what had happened. Thankfully, she didn’t meet anyone on the walk to Ravenclaw Tower, and by some small mercy, none of her housemates took note of her return, allowing her to slip up to her and Pandora’s room unnoticed. 

Closing the door behind her, Hermione turned to face Pandora, who was staring up at her from where she was reclined on her bed, “Have fun?”

The question was asked with a raised eyebrow, and Hermione flushed bright red in response. Part of her was relieved they weren’t immediately jumping onto heavier topics, but another part of her was slightly embarrassed. Her friend clearly knew what she had just been up to. 

Taking a deep breath, she refused to let her embarrassment get the better of her and instead grinned while replying “Yes.” 

Pandora smirked at her reply but also looked pleased for her friend, apparently deciding to forgo whatever usual ribbing followed a night away from the dorm. 

“Good - but we need to talk.”

The atmosphere of the room shifted rapidly. 

“Yes - we do,” Hermione agreed, taking a seat on the bed opposite her friend, “Are you okay?”

Pandora nodded, “Xeno and I were fine. We were already heading back up to the castle when it happened. What about you?”

“I don’t know. I mean James almost died, and I never saw it coming.”

“Oh, Hermione. You couldn’t have. You may know more than most, but you can’t stop everything bad from happening.”

She knew Pandora was right, but she still felt like she should have been able to do something more. Besides, there were bigger issues at hand, “Things are going to get worse, aren’t they?”

“Yes. This was only the beginning.” Pandora's words were ominous, but Hermione knew they were the truth. 

Her other memories didn’t know much about what she had called the First Wizarding War, but she knew things were going to get so much worse before she could do anything to help it.

“Why did they attack Hogsmeade though?” Pandora questioned, and Hermione was relieved to have an answer. 

“It was a show of force. They were showing not only are they unafraid to reveal themselves but that they’re willing to attack children under Dumbledore’s care for their cause.”

She spat the last word and Pandora looked back at her grimly. The attack had been a terrible reminder of their mission. For all they may take time to enjoy their lives they weren’t truly safe anywhere, not even at Hogwarts, and there was still so much at stake. 

So many more lives were relying on them and their efforts to end Tom Riddle before he could cause even more destruction. Still, Hermione knew that it was a long way off, and there were years between then and now that would be filled with pain, suffering and darkness. 

* * *

The full moon passed easily even with James unable to join her brother in the shack. It made Hermione more determined to complete the animagus transformation, though. Seeing just how easy it was for one of them to be unable to join her brother, and how realistic her fears he may be left alone really were. 

With the moon past, Sirius’ birthday was upon them. The Marauder’s birthdays were usually extravagant affairs, and she typically got caught up in the chaos, especially of her and Remus’ birthday; no matter how much they protested the other’s dramatics. 

But on this occasion, the boys seemed to have read the mood of the castle and Sirius’ coming of age was passed with relatively little fanfare. Gifts were exchanged at breakfast, but apart from that, there were none of the usual extravagances. 

Instead, as Hermione handed him the Rolling Stones vinyl, she felt confident he’d enjoy, he slipped her a now-familiar note. She didn’t read it at first, just continued with breakfast and thought about the small piece of paper hidden in her pocket. 

She knew she needed Sirius to help her with the transformation. And she also knew she was going ahead with it no matter what, but she couldn’t help but think back to Kingsley finding them on Friday. 

They hadn’t been doing anything wrong, other than being out after curfew, but she also knew she couldn’t risk something like it happening again. She genuinely liked Kingsley. His quiet, steady manner that reassured her when it had felt like everything was falling apart after the attack, and so many other things about him too. 

She didn’t know how he had caught them, though. She had known he was patrolling that evening, so she knew meeting Sirius had been risky but something made her go anyway. Confident in their ability not to get caught based on their previous successful meetings. 

Regardless of any previous successful late-night meetups, she knew she couldn’t risk more going forward. At least not where they could be discovered. Both Kingsley and the transformation were too important to her to give either up though, so she would have to find an alternative solution. 

One was obvious to her. The Room of Requirement would provide the perfect place for her to work on her training and continue meeting Sirius in private, but she wasn’t sure she wanted to share it. 

Still, she needed somewhere the two could meet and be sure they wouldn’t get caught, so she resolved to tell him anyway. 

Breakfast finally finished, Hermione had a chance to glance at the note. 

_Ancient Runes Classroom, 11pm_

Mind already made up she knew she couldn’t accept and instead wrote a note of her own. 

_I know somewhere better._

_7th floor, left corridor, 11pm_

Finding Sirius between classes she discreetly gave him the note and could only hope she was making the right choice. 

* * *

She got there before Sirius as planned but then had to anxiously wait for him to appear. When he finally rounded the corner, she let out a relieved sigh that he had come even with her change of location. 

“Alright then Kitten, what’s this place you’ve found?”

Thankfully, he didn’t sound mad, only intrigued, and Hermione grinned mischievously at him before she started pacing. 

_I need somewhere comfortable and private._

_I need somewhere comfortable and private._

_I need somewhere comfortable and private._

Through her pacing, Sirius smirked at her, bemused, but the smug look drained off his face as the door appeared. Opening it, she motioned for him to enter. 

“Kitten, what is this place?” He sounded amazed, and Hermione was thrilled she was getting to show him, earlier anxiety over sharing it dismissed. 

Closing the door behind her, Hermione glanced around the replica of the kitchen at Lupin Cottage before replying, “The Room of Requirement.”

“No shit,” she wasn’t surprised Sirius had heard of it, he was always more intelligent than he let on, “how’d you find it?”

“I don’t know really.” It was a lie. She knew exactly how she’d found it. Dobby had introduced her to it a lifetime ago, but she couldn’t tell him that, “I was just walking one day and sure enough there was the door.”

“And you haven’t told anyone about it?” he questioned

“Uh no - I’ve kind of been using it as a hideaway, but I need somewhere to train so here we are. I’d appreciate it if you didn’t tell the boys, though. I kind of like having somewhere to myself.”

He nodded at her explanation before replying, “Another of our secrets then Mini.”

Pleased he had agreed Hermione’s thought turned back to their interrupted last meeting. Even though it had only been days ago, so much had happened that it felt like a lifetime. Before she got a chance to ask though, Sirius voiced a question of his own. 

“Everything okay with you and Shacklebolt?” 

She wasn’t sure why he was asking. Something in his tone made her think it wasn’t mere curiosity, but she didn’t know what else to attribute it too so instead focused back on his question. 

“I think so. Thanks for your quick thinking on Friday though.”

He smirked wryly at her before responding, “No problem, Kitten. Was probably my fault anyway. I suggested meeting. Didn’t know he’d be patrolling though, so I thought we’d be okay. A silencing charm’s usually enough they don’t look too closely. Think it was by chance more than anything.”

Hermione agreed with his assessment before continuing, “Exactly, but we can’t take that chance anymore. I don’t need my brother questioning why I’m meeting you late at night so we’ll meet here instead.” 

“Indeed,” he drawled, “well then, everything else okay? Saturday must have been pretty rough on you.” 

She wasn’t sure how to answer his question. It was the first time anyone other than Pandora had asked, and she found she wasn’t sure what to say but eventually settled on a response. 

“Okay, I think - I was really worried about James, but it seems like he’ll be fine.”

“Yes, Kitten. James will be perfectly fine - thanks to you.”

She flushed slightly at his words but smiled at the reassurance James was well before asking why he had wanted to meet her. 

“You really did seem shaken up Saturday, and I just had to check. Plus, we never got to finish our talk about your meditations.” 

She was touched he had worried about her. It felt so out of character for him, but then again she thought about what she knew of the real Sirius rather than the suave exterior he showed the world. 

The Sirius that was fiercely loyal. That she knew would care for his godson like his own child, and she realised she’d been underestimating him. Of course, he’d have worried about her. She knew how fragile she felt after the attack and that it had shown on her face. The Sirius that would rather die than betray his friends would naturally be concerned over Moony’s strange little twin. 

“I’m okay - really. Thank you, though. And honestly, I think my meditations will just take time like you said. It doesn’t help I’ve been so stressed over everything it’s been hard to get into the right headspace.”

“Oh, Kitten, you’ll get there eventually. And remember, I’m here to help if you need it.”

* * *

November passed quickly. Emotions in the castle running high. At first, everyone had been too shocked to react, and the castle had spent days stuck in a solemn silence as everyone processed what had happened. Soon after, though, anger rose to the surface. 

Days after the attack, a group proclaiming themselves the Death Eater’s had taken responsibility for it. While nobody officially knew who they were, it was an open secret. The Slytherin’s proudly revelling in the destruction wrought on the village by the group so many of them one day aimed to join. 

Between the Slytherins' quiet pride in the event and the Gryffindor’s anger over it, November was a month punctuated by the many fights that broke out in the halls. James avoided them as best he could, keeping his promise to Lily, but it was hard to ignore them. 

Instead of joining, or even initiating, fights as he perhaps would have even that summer, he focused on keeping out of them. Avoiding the Slytherins at all costs, lest the temptation to curse them become too much. 

Alternatively, he focused on Quidditch and ran the team ragged trying to keep them out of trouble too. Or he studied with Lily, the two of them growing ever closer as they moved onto a first name basis. 

He was meant to be meeting Lily, Sirius tagging along hoping to be a distraction when he saw them. As he rounded one of the stacks towards the table they usually studied at he spotted Lily almost backed into a corner by Snape. 

At first, he had wanted to leap in and try to help her, but he stopped himself knowing Lily was perfectly capable of defending herself and wouldn’t thank him for his intervention. 

Instead, he pulled Sirius back from where he was brandishing his wand, and they both listened to the conversation. 

“Lily please - you know I didn’t mean what I said. It’s been months. Surely we can move past it.”

James immediately knew what Snape was referring to. The incident by the lake that he still felt guilty over. He wished he had never engaged with Snape that day, but he had also apologised to Lily and they’d both moved past it. He knew she hadn’t done the same for Snape, but he had been unaware he was still seeking her forgiveness. 

Focusing back on the conversation he just had time to hear Lily’s snappish response, “Snape, the only reason that word could have _slipped out_ is if you were already using it enough it was commonplace so why should I be any different. I won’t deny I regret how I acted that day. I never should have said what I did to you but that doesn’t mean I would change the outcome.”

Snape looked struck by her words, but Lily continued, “It had been a long time coming, and we both know it. I begged you over and over again not to get involved with them, but you just couldn’t resist the temptation, could you? Even now I see you laughing and joking about the attack last month and then coming here and begging for my forgiveness - god, it makes me sick!”

Through her speech, Snape’s face went dark, and eventually, he interrupted her, “Lily, no…” before he could finish though fury flashed over her face.

“No, Snape! You don’t get to call me that. Not anymore. You lost that right the same time any hope for our friendship died. You know, I defended you for _years_ , and yet you still let me down. So stop it. Stop calling me that, stop showing up at my house, stop cornering me after class. Just leave me alone! Because we are DONE, and we have been for a _very_ long time.” 

While Lily’s voice had morphed from unbridled rage to exasperated anger Snape’s face had taken on its own sneering fury, 

“Oh, so what - you’re just going to replace me with _Potter,_ ” he spat his name, “who I notice you’re getting so chummy with.”

“Maybe I will,” Lily snapped back, “At least James has never been anything but honest with me.” 

Snape’s whole body shook with rage, “Of course, we’ve all seen you cozying up to him. I’ve watched them, you know. Seen how they’re slowly dragging you into their little group.” 

“Oh yes - we’re all well aware of your obsession with James and his friends,” Lily’s tone was ridiculing and only heightened Snape’s anger.

He growled his response, “ _Don’t_ try and make this into something it’s not. We both know there’s something wrong with them. I’ve been telling you Lupin’s dangerous since he started _befriending_ you and who knows, maybe his sister really is a bitch too.” 

Snape’s words were a step too far for James. He was happy to let Lily fight her own battles, but the argument was veering into personal territory for Remus. Something in what Snape said had infuriated Sirius even more than him though, and before James could stop him he was interrupting, 

“Careful there, Snivillius. Wouldn’t want a repeat of the summer now would we?” 

He tensed at Sirius’ words. They weren’t at all how James wanted to handle the situation. More concerned about Remus’ secret that Snape was determined to discover. Still, Sirius’ words immediately drew Snape’s ire, and his face went puce with rage. 

As the two continued spitting insults at each other, he glanced at Lily, who was looking exhausted by the encounter. Drawing her attention to him, he muttered softly, “Come on. Let’s get out of here.”

Looking up at him, relief in her emerald eyes, she nodded slightly. Following him out of the library, they left Sirius and Snape to duke it out. 

“You okay?” 

“Yeah, James,” she sighed, “I’m fine. Just not exactly what I needed after everything over the last month.” 

“That’s fair,” he replied, taking a breath before speaking his piece, “Look, I know you don’t need my help with anything but if he’s still bothering you …” 

“ _James.”_

“... No, seriously. I promised to lay off him, and I have. I’ll even agree Sirius shouldn’t have said what he just did, but Snape shouldn’t be bothering you that much if you’ve told him to back off.” 

He recognised the irony in him being the one to say it. But even at their worst, she had never begged him to leave her alone in the same way she just had Snape. 

Lily took a moment to consider his words before replying, “I appreciate the offer but let’s just leave it for now yeah. I just want to put the whole thing behind me, but no-one seems to want to let me.”

Suddenly James realised entirely how unwanted his attention on the matter was. How he was intruding on what was likely still a sore subject and one that he had only ever made worse. Still, he was reluctant to leave her alone with Snape and Sirius still arguing in the library. 

“Well, how about I take your mind off it then - need a distraction?”

Lily actually smiled at his question and nodded her assent. He hadn’t thought that far ahead, surprised she was agreeing to spend time with him outside their usual potions studying session but quickly decided to share a secret he hoped the other Marauders would forgive him for. 

“You like hot chocolate, right?”

Again she nodded, looking bemused. Clearly wondering where he was planning on getting the drink from with the Great Hall still closed. Chuckling at her confused reaction, he offered her his arm and guided her in the direction of the kitchens. All worries over Snape and Sirius’ argument forgotten. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: none I can think of but as always pls lmk


	13. The Fallout

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy sunday!!  
> and happy new year! fingercrossed 2021 runs a little smoother  
> as always - the pinterest board with fancasts, vibes, all that good stuff https://pin.it/Uhesip0 (i'm adding characters kinda as theyre introduced so theres no spoilers)
> 
> TW in end notes

**December 1976**

Hermione had wanted to spend the December moon in the Hospital Wing with Remus. But her brother had insisted he’d be okay alone and taken himself away to the infirmary claiming illness. 

She knew why he did it. She and Kingsley had been spending more and more time together after the attack. Finding comfort in each other amid the darkness and anger that permeated through the castle as people processed what had happened; and as tensions rose with everyone trapped together until the holidays. 

Hermione had reciprocated his actions but other than that they hadn’t gone any further with their relationship. Enjoying the new heights they had gone to but comfortable in where they were. Neither wanting to push the other any further for the moment.

Still, they spent most evenings together. Quietly appreciating each other’s company, a respite from everything happening around them. She knew Remus was reluctant to pull her away from her routine or risk Kingsley asking uncomfortable questions about whichever relative they claimed was sick so they could both escape. 

Instead, they had followed the usual pattern with Remus disappearing off to the Hospital Wing the day before the moon when his symptoms meant he began to feel truly awful. 

She hoped the previous night's moon had gone well. All three boys should have been able to join her brother in the shack, and hopefully, it had made the night easier for Remus. He always suffered more when tensions were high. Something about anxiety making Moony more aggressive than usual in a way that only led to his aggressions being taken out on himself. 

Entering the Great Hall, she didn’t notice anything at first, heading towards the Gryffindor table to eat with the Marauders as she usually would before they all went to find Remus. But, looking at the table, it was immediately apparent something was wrong. 

None of the boys were present, something that immediately set Hermione on edge thinking of all the terrible things that could have happened. The ways in which one of them could have been injured or her brother could have harmed himself, and she felt her heart start to race. 

As she started to leave the Great Hall, intent on getting to the infirmary, she overheard snippets of conversations that stopped her. 

“... I’ve never seen them like it before. I thought they were going to fight right there in the common room.”

“Well, I mean Potter threw that punch and stormed out. There wasn’t exactly time.”

Hermione didn’t understand what she was hearing but abandoned all thoughts of going to the Hospital Wing until she knew what to tell Remus. Glancing around, she set her gaze on Lily, hoping she’d have answers. 

She was amid the other Gryffindor girls when Hermione approached, 

“Hey Evans - do you know what’s going on with the boys?”

Lily looked up at her with anxiety in her eyes, “I don’t really know Lupin. Just that they got in a massive fight last night. We could hear it from down in the common room and next thing I know James is storming downstairs, Sirius following him. They were still yelling at each other, and suddenly James was storming out even though curfew had already passed. I tried to stop him, but I don’t think he even noticed me.”

Hermione could feel dread building up in her stomach thinking about it, but she still didn’t know what had happened. 

“You don’t know anything else?” She pleaded. 

Auburn eyebrows drew together as Lily replied, “I’m sorry, I honestly don’t …”

Marlene interrupted before she could continue, “Look Lupin, I’d just be glad your brother was stuck in the Hospital Wing last night because it was ugly.”

Lily nodded through the interruption before continuing, “Yeah, it was bad. I don’t even know what it was about. James and I were supposed to be studying last night, but Snape interrupted, and then he and Black were fighting. We got out of there pretty quickly, but I think it was something to do with you and your brother that set him off. We didn’t get back until later, and next thing I know you can hear them yelling at each other through the tower.”

Hermione went cold at Lily’s words. She knew about a fight between Snape and Sirius already. One that she had purposefully forgotten about as it was too horrible to consider until that moment, but she felt fear run through her at the thought it had played out here. 

The fight between Snape and Sirius that led to him revealing her brother’s biggest secret. She prayed it wasn’t what had happened, but she could think of nothing else that would have led James to have such a violent reaction, to prompt him to rush out of Gryffindor Tower without even glancing at Lily. 

She felt panic consuming her in a way it never had before. Even during the attack on Hogsmeade, she had never felt dread as strongly as she did then. She couldn’t focus on anything. She only knew she had to get out of there and find her brother to confirm or deny what she feared. 

“I … I have to go,” she stuttered, all but running out of the Great Hall. 

She was almost dazed as she made her way to the Hospital Wing. Barely aware of her surroundings, she didn’t notice him until he caught her elbow and spun her to face him. 

“Sirius,” she breathed, searching his face and immediately seeing the bruise surrounding one of his eyes and the guilt shining out of them. 

She didn’t want it to be there though. It couldn’t be, because she didn’t know what to do if it were. He still hadn’t spoken, the two of them standing inches from each other assessing. 

“Sirius,” she finally continued, begging “What’s happening?” She knew she sounded almost frantic as she said it, but she couldn’t stop herself. 

“What have you heard?” His voice was dark and low and did nothing to soothe her. 

“I don’t even know,” she cried, “Only that you and James had a massive fight after you were arguing with Snape about Remus and me...”

As she spoke, he started grimacing, and her fears were all but confirmed, but she still needed to hear it.

“... so I _don’t know_ ,” her voice was panicked by this point, “but everything I’m imagining is terrible, so I need you to tell me what happened.” At that point, her voice broke. 

“Hermione,” he sighed, remorseful, “I think you know.”

“No, no, I don't,” she pleaded, “I need to hear it from you. I need you to _tell me_ what happened.”

She was desperate for him to deny it and, in their nearness, was almost hitting him in the chest with her panicked movements. 

“It was never meant to happen,” he started, voice gravelly like he didn’t want to admit to what he was about to, “I never thought he’d actually go.”

Fear gripped her chest at his words, “Oh, Sirius, no,” she breathed out before she could stop herself. “Please tell me you didn’t let Snape know where my brother was last night.” 

“You know I did.”

“No. No. You didn’t. You wouldn’t be that stupid. _Please_ tell me this is some horrible joke.”

She could feel tears pooling in her eyes through her pleas and prayed he would say it was. 

“It’s not Hermione. He was never actually meant to go,” Sirius rushed to explain, but the damage was already done, “I never thought he’d be in any danger. I thought he’d hear some noises and chicken out.” 

“Stop it! Stop. Stop making excuses for yourself. This is your fault, God, what have you done?” 

“Hermione …”

“NO!” she pulled herself away from him as she shouted, “Just leave me alone. Oh god, I’ve got to find Remus.” 

Anxiety consumed her at the thoughts of her brother, “He’s probably killing himself.”

She could feel the tears in her eyes again and was back to barely noticing her surroundings, focused only on one goal, muttering to herself, “Hospital Wing. I’ve got to get to the Hospital Wing.”

“Hermione,” his voice interrupted her thoughts, “You’re clearly upset. Just let me help you. I’ll take you to find Remus.”

Suddenly anger coursed through her, “I said no Black,” she snapped, “I don’t want to be around you, and I doubt Remus does either. Just leave us alone. You’ve done enough damage.” 

Calling him his last name seemed to have stunned Sirius more than the rest of her declaration. She wasn’t surprised. She didn’t think she’d ever called him that before. Knowing how much he hated his family and everything they stood for, she had avoided associating him with them as much as possible. 

Besides, even if they had never been as close as she was with James, they’d certainly never been on a last name basis. Their respective friends too close to allow such unfamiliarities, but right then she was too angry and upset to have cared. 

She couldn’t believe it had happened. Part of her had known it was a possibility, that it had happened before so there was the chance it could happen again. But that it actually had was another matter entirely. 

That Sirius would be so reckless with her brother’s life was something she couldn’t believe. She knew he was still a boy at heart, brash and wild, but she hadn’t wanted to consider the possibility he was careless. That the boy she’d come to put so much trust in, between caring for Remus and helping her with the transformation, was so unthinking and so far from the man she wished he was. 

Still, it had happened, and she knew Remus. He would be destroying himself over something that was entirely out of his hands. It was an actualisation of every one of his fears, and she knew he would be determined to lock himself away from the world, possibly even from her. Hermione could only hope she could somehow convince him he would never harm her. 

Leaving a still stunned Sirius in the corridor she spun away from him, tears blurring her vision and fury igniting her veins. 

* * *

Remus hunched in on himself as she rounded the curtains to his bed. He usually looked ill the morning after the full moon. Bones aching from the transformation, skin too tight like it wasn’t quite his, but she had never seen him look this bad. Like he wished he hadn’t made it through the night. 

Hermione’s heart broke that her brother had been put in this position. Another part of her, though, was filled with rage. Fury that this could have happened. That one of her brother’s friends would have endangered him like this but also at herself. 

That she allowed this to happen, even knowing it was a possibility. That she had been so distracted by everything else going on in her life that she put her brother, who had always done everything possible to protect her, in danger. 

“Remus,” she whispered, not wanting to spook him as if he didn’t already know she was there. 

“Hermione,” he replied, sorrow lacing the word, and her heart broke for her brother again, “You know then?”

She nodded. She’d never seen her brother look so vulnerable and she found she didn’t know what to do. What could she? It was the worst betrayal this version of her brother had ever experienced, and she had let it happen. Distracted by Kingsley and her worries over the future she’d lost track of the present. 

“Black told me.,” She still couldn’t bring herself to call him by his first name. The wound too fresh. 

Remus grimaced at her words and somehow hunched even further in on himself. Her usually tall brother looked tiny in the hospital bed as if he were trying to disappear from existence entirely. 

“I shouldn’t be here,” he all but whispered, “You shouldn’t either; you should stay away from me.”

She was shaking her head even as he said it. She couldn’t let him convince himself he was dangerous. Not when he had done nothing but be put in terrible situations over and over again while blaming himself every time. She couldn’t let him do it again, not this time. 

“Oh, Remus, no. You belong here more than anyone, and I’d never leave you. I couldn’t. You’re mine, remember?”

It was a promise they had made each other years ago. Two terrified children about to be split apart for the first time as her brother was locked in their cellar for his transformation. The two of them clinging to each other as their parents separated them, neither understanding why. Only knowing that weeks before, they had faced off against a monster and Remus had stood in front of her the whole time. Only for Hermione to spend days refusing to move from his Hospital bed, unwilling to be parted from her other half. 

They had both been terrified as their parents tried to lock Remus away and there Hermione had made the declaration that they couldn’t take him. That he was hers. Somehow, their parents had separated them from where they had wrapped around each other, but her words stood. 

The next morning, as her brother grappled with the reality of what had happened to him, too young to understand but his tiny body bloodied and exhausted, all the same, she had made the same promise. That she would never leave him because he was hers, and he had said the same—a vow never to leave each other. 

They had all but forgotten it over the years. Both knowing it was true but neither needing the reassurance of the words. Here and now though, as her brother berated himself for something that wasn’t even his fault Hermione knew she’d never leave him, no matter how much he may try and force her away, she would never go. 

* * *

James still couldn’t believe it had happened. He still struggled to process how that day had gone so wrong even weeks later. How his meeting with Lily had been derailed, only for him to escape with her to the kitchen and how perfectly that time together had gone. 

Lily had overlooked the fact he somehow sneaked them into the kitchens. Instead, enjoying the snacks house-elves happily provided them with. They had passed hours there, just talking. Learning more about each other, covering mundane topics like their families but darker ones too. The attack, the feel of the castle over the previous month, all of it discussed over steaming hot chocolate in the hushed voices of people who couldn’t quite believe the conversation was happening. 

It had all gone drastically wrong after that. The two of them separating in the common room he’d slipped upstairs gleefully. Head filled with thoughts of the afternoon and Lily’s soft smiles as they talked. He’d been so ready to tell the other Marauders how he’d spent the afternoon as he entered their dorm. 

The soft smiles were all but incinerated from his mind through what followed though. Peter and Sirius laughing over the great prank Sirius had played on Snape. A prank that made James’ blood run cold as it had been explained to him. 

He honestly didn’t remember what had happened after that. The whole evening a blur of panic and fear; for Snape, for his friend, for himself. All of it clouding his memory. 

He and Sirius still hadn’t talked. Punches thrown during a fit of anger the least of their issues. They had fought plenty before. Living together for the past five years, they had had plenty of arguments, but none of them had been like this—none where people’s lives were literally on the line. 

He’d never considered his best friend to be like his family before; too much his brother to be anything like the Black’s but James questioned whether he’d been naive now. He didn’t think so. As much as he hated what Sirius had done, and as much as he still hadn’t forgiven him for it, he at least hoped it wasn’t purposefully malignant.

He didn’t know why Sirius had done it, Not that any excuse would be enough to make up for revealing the secret Remus had so hesitantly trusted them with, but part of him still wanted to know. 

He knew Sirius was reckless. The two of them were too similar in that respect, but he also knew nothing could have led to him doing the same thing, so he couldn’t understand why Sirius had done it. 

Still, he couldn’t bring himself to talk to Sirius - punishing them both. And Remus wasn’t speaking to any of them either. 

Hermione had already been in the Hospital Wing when he had returned there the morning after The Incident. It was clear she already knew what had happened and the air of Remus’ bay had been dark. 

They had spoken briefly, Remus’ thanking him awkwardly for saving Snape as if he could have done anything else. At that point, Sirius had entered the Hospital Wing, and the sombre air had shifted to fury. 

Remus turned in on himself. Unable to confront Sirius with the betrayal so recent, and Hermione's rage had filled the space her brother shrunk away from. 

He’d never seen Hermione so angry. It wasn’t an argument. It couldn’t have been called that. One person, so clearly explaining why they didn’t want anything to do with the other, all while receiving nothing but unwanted apologies in reply. 

After that, the Lupin Twins had closed ranks. 

Everyone noticed the change. Neither of them was seen alone, they rarely talked to others, and there were no glimpses of Hermione and Kingsley silently studying in the stacks, that had become so commonplace over the term. The cause of their withdrawal was a source of open speculation in the castle, especially with the Marauder’s so clearly not talking either. 

Instead, the final weeks of the term passed with his friends barely talking to each other. He wasn’t ready to talk to Sirius, and he didn’t know how he felt about Peter’s reaction. Joining Sirius in laughing at the idea of Snape facing off against a werewolf alone, so James rarely spoke to him either. 

Remus only returned to their dorm late at night, barely acknowledging their presence and disappeared early in the morning. Intent on removing himself from their existences as much as possible. 

The Marauders were separate entities for the first time in years. 

Christmas was upon them though, and James was faced with a near-impossible decision. He hadn’t told his parents what had happened. He couldn’t. They didn’t know about Remus’ condition; and that was a secret he wasn’t willing to betray, even to his family. 

But he and Sirius still weren’t talking, and James honestly didn’t know when he’d be ready too. Yet, if Sirius didn’t come back to the Manor for Christmas, his parents would immediately know something was wrong. 

It only left him with one choice, but that didn’t change his questions over whether he was ready to have that conversation. Still, he didn’t have any other options. 

He waited until after dinner to address him. Waiting until the now awkward time in the evening that used to be filled with poker, or planning pranks but now was spent ignoring each other's existence. 

“Sirius,” his friend looked shocked that James was addressing him, rather than relaying a passive-aggressive message through Peter, whenever he appeared from where he disappeared off to or ignoring him entirely. Part of James felt guilty; his friendship had got to this point. He pushed it aside though when he thought of the haunted look Moony still had weeks later. 

“Mum’s expecting you home for Christmas.”

“She is?” his shocked expression remained as if Sirius thought he wouldn't be welcome in his own home and James felt guilt rise back up in his chest. 

He knew Sirius had a complicated relationship with family. How could he not after everything his friend had been through? But, he had hoped Sirius knew even with everything that had happened, he would never be unwelcome in the Potter’s home. 

“Yeah,” he settled on nodding in reply, “Look, I won’t lie. I’m still furious over what happened, but Mum and Dad don’t know and never need to find out, so you’re coming home for Christmas, right?”

His friend nodded looking confused, and awkward silence settled back over the room. Both of them resigning themselves to an uncomfortable Christmas as they were unable to deal with what had happened. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sooooo The Prank or whatever it is you want to call it (personally, and in this fic, it will be referred to as The Incident because I prefer it) 
> 
> It was one of the events I found that didn't have a super definate date on it from canon but should have happened during 5th year. That being said I moved it here because. frankly, I wanted to write about it. Infact, that scene where Hermione realises that Sirius told Snape was one of the major inspos for this fic (tho not the only one), that kind of moment of realisation the boy she'd trusted to take care of her brother and help her with her transformation had betrayed them both.  
> Anyway - I hope y'all like it - and I'm sorry because there is angst coming.
> 
> TW: Injury (Please lmk if I should add any others)


	14. A Request

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy sunday!!  
> thank you so much for all the comments - i'm so glad you guys enjoyed last chapter - wasn't sure how people would feel about me moving the prank so im thrilled you guys enjoyed it - tho there's deffo some more angsty moments coming.  
> as always the pinterest board : https://pin.it/Uhesip0
> 
> TW in end notes

**December 1976**

The final weeks of term passed quickly. Hermione avoided everyone but her brother, knowing he needed the support and wasn’t ready to talk to others yet. He was only just willing to let Hermione spend time around him after all, still convinced he was a danger to everyone in the castle. 

Apart from her brother Hermione barely noticed anyone else. She still saw Pandora in their dorm, but all discussions of their plans regarding Tom Riddle and his destruction had been put on hold. She hadn’t expressly asked Pandora to do so but somehow, like always, her friend had known, and instead, they spent the time in contemplative silence as Hermione tried to process what had happened. 

She knew the phrase, of course. ‘ _When it rains, it pours’,_ and she’d never found it to be more accurate. In as many months, she had received two reminders of how her negligence could negatively impact the future. 

A reminder of how bad things could become if she failed to change anything in the attack and a reminder of how much more danger she could place people in if she became so focused on possible futures she lost track of what was happening around her. 

It put her in an impossible position, afraid of both the future and the present, but she didn’t have time to think about it. Instead, she focused solely on Remus. Even knowing she should be thinking of Riddle, she worried too much about her brother, the damage that had been done to his friendships, and its impact on the future to focus on anything else. 

She knew the Remus and Sirius from her other memories had moved passed it somehow, but she also thought that initial betrayal was what allowed the breakdown of trust in their later years. 

How knowing Sirius was willing to risk someone who hated him finding out her brother's biggest secret laid the groundwork for believing Sirius was capable of betraying the Potter’s. 

Hermione hated the idea of it happening to them again. The idea that this initial break of trust would be like a wound festering between them and would only infect their friendship further as things grew increasingly tense through the war. 

She knew she couldn’t let it happen again; couldn’t let their friendship fall apart in the same way it had last time. She also knew it started with repairing the rift between them, but she didn’t know how. And even if she did, Hermione found she was still too angry at Sirius to want to. 

As much as she knew they had to remain friends, and that her brother would suffer more without them in his life, she couldn’t deny she still felt the sting of Sirius’ actions. She knew Remus was the one whose trust he had truly betrayed, but she had been hurt by The Incident too, and that pain was the other reason she hadn’t made an effort towards repairing their friendship yet. 

Besides, any efforts to try and reconcile the Marauders that soon after would only feel like betraying Remus’ trust herself, and that was something she would never do. 

Instead, the end of term passed with the boys noticeably avoiding each other; she and Remus paired off avoiding everyone. James avoided Sirius, and Peter was theoretically stuck in the middle were it not for his apparent disappearance. 

Kingsley was the only person she felt bad for avoiding, but she knew she wouldn’t abandon Remus through all this. No matter how much her brother may insist she try and spend time with him. The idea of leaving Remus to his thoughts, to stew over his reasons that he shouldn’t be at Hogwarts for Hermione to spend time with Kingsley made her feel unbelievably guilty. Instead, she insisted on sticking by her brother. The two of them avoiding everyone during waking hours and retreating to their respective dorms in silence each night. 

Kingsley didn’t catch her alone until the night before the Express was due to take them home. Pulling her into the alcove they’d shared their first kiss it was extremely apparent they were there for different reasons. 

“Hermione,” he started, thick eyebrows drawn together and worry in his eyes, “Where have you been? I haven’t seen you in days.”

The guilt instantly reappeared, a heavy feeling in her stomach. Here was this boy who had held her as she fell apart not even two months ago and now she was avoiding him. Still, she couldn’t tell him. She wasn’t bound by an unbreakable vow like Snape, but she may as well have been for the likelihood she would tell Kingsley what happened. She would _never_ reveal her brother’s secret. 

Instead, she settled on avoiding his question, “I’m sorry, I’ve been busy. I haven’t really been around.”

“You’ve been busy? Seriously Hermione, what happened? Because everyone knows something’s up with your brother and his friends, and now you’re disappearing too?”

She sighed at his response. She knew the Marauders’ apparent break up had been a cause of massive speculation throughout the castle, but she had hoped Kingsley would have avoided asking her about it directly. 

“Look, I can’t tell you because it’s my brother’s business and it’s not my place to share it. I’m sorry I’ve been absent, but Remus needs me right now, so that’s where I’ve been.”

He didn’t appear overly thrilled by her answer but accepted it nonetheless, instead, changing the subject, “You heading home tomorrow?”

“Yeah,” she nodded, “Remus and I are both going home for Christmas. You?”

“Staying here. I’m hoping to get early acceptance to the Auror program, and the tests are coming up in February so I figured I should probably get some studying done early.”

Smiling at his ambition, Hermione was pleased they seemed to have moved on from discussions of her disappearance, even if they both knew the topic wasn’t entirely behind them. 

* * *

For the first time since their initial trip to Hogwarts, Hermione and Remus rode the Express back to London alone. She didn’t think her father noticed. The only parent available to collect them from the station, her father, thought nothing of Remus avoiding his friends, forever ignoring his infected son. 

But, looking at the ever so slightly pursed lips of Dorea Potter, it certainly had not escaped her notice that none of the boys engaged in their usual five-minute discussion of when and where they were first meeting over the holidays. Even more telling was the uncomfortable silence between James and Sirius, who, despite the valiant effort they were putting into pretending otherwise, quite clearly weren’t talking either. 

Therefore, it came as no surprise when she received an invitation to tea at Potter Manor a few days into the break. She had no excuse not to go, having spent the holiday enjoying the quiet company of her brother and the peace of Lupin cottage. Besides, Hermione knew it was more of a demand than a request, so she accepted the invitation and braced herself for the inevitable interrogation. 

Having been led into a small parlour, it was clear none of the boys would be joining them. Not that Hermione had been expecting them to. The invite had made it clear this was to be a private event, and she knew it was so Dorea had ample opportunity to discover the truth of what was happening with her sons. 

Pouring them both tea, Hermione took the time Dorea was distracted to brace herself for questioning, all pleasantries having been exchanged at the door. 

Finally, taking a sip, Dorea started, “So, I imagine you know why I asked you here?” 

“I have my suspicions,” Hermione replied, evasively. She knew Dorea was trying to get her to reveal what she knew without any pushing but she could play Slytherin too, and wouldn’t fall for a trick as simple as that. 

Smiling at her response Dorea hummed lightly in agreement before continuing, “I am, of course, referring to the fact, despite their best efforts to suggest otherwise, my boys aren’t talking to each other, and your brother is conspicuously absent too.”

“Hmm, yes,” Hermione agreed, “There may have been something on an argument at the end of term.”

It was another evasive answer, but Dorea raised an eyebrow nonetheless. They both knew the boys fought plenty, about who stole the others chocolate, the state of their dorm room or other mundane nonsense, but they rarely lasted long. That they still weren’t talking weeks later showed how bad the argument had been. 

“Really? So, I assume it's quite serious.”

“Yes,” Hermione agreed, “More of a betrayal of trust than anything.”

Usually, she would never share the boys’ private ongoings, but she needed help repairing the damage done to their friendship and could think of no one better than Dorea, who she knew loved them all like her own sons. 

“Ahh, so bad then. Can I assume this is to do with your brother’s condition?”

Hermione went stiff at her words. They had never told the Potter’s about Remus’ lycanthropy, keeping it as much of a secret as possible. Having him come back to their cottage for coincidental trips home whenever he was spending the summer at the Manor. 

The fact Dorea mentioned it so casually, caught Hermione entirely off guard before she had a chance to react though Dorea continued. 

“It’s okay, Dear. We’ve known since your second year.”

“You have?” Hermione questioned, too dazed to do anything else. 

“Yes, Charlus picked up on the pattern of your trips home and it wasn’t too difficult to put the pieces together from there. Don’t worry about that now, though. We haven’t told anyone over the past five years, and we certainly don’t intend to start now. 

“By the time we realised the truth, we had already accepted you both as our own. We were never going to mention it to either of you or my sons. I only asked now in case it has something to do with why the boys are being so stubborn.”

Hermione felt relief rush through her that they weren’t about to start sharing her brother’s secret, but then she felt guilty at expecting so little from the couple who had been all but a second, or maybe in her case third, set of parents. The couple who had cared so diligently for her and her brother in particular. For taking up the mantle of care when her birth parents had been unable to do so. 

She felt even more relieved Remus wasn’t about to experience the subtle rejections he had from their parents. Secure in the knowledge the Potter’s had known for years and never treated her brother any differently. It wasn’t that their parents didn’t love her brother. She knew they did, more than anything, but old prejudices died hard and her father was still grappling with Remus’ lycanthropy even years later. 

Their mother was more accepting. As a Muggle, she had never been exposed to the same cultural prejudices as their father, but there was still much about the magical world she would never understand. 

Between their father’s quiet disappointment and their mother’s unwitting ignorance, they had both craved more loving adult attention that the Potter’s had been all too willing to provide. So, Hermione was doubly relieved that Remus wasn’t about to experience his second bout of parental rejection. 

Nodding at Dorea’s words she heard the truth spill out of her before she could stop it. But, for once she didn’t feel guilty about sharing others’ secrets, knowing she likely would have given into the questioning eventually. 

“You’re going to be so proud and so disappointed at the same time,” she started. “Last full moon Sirius got in an argument with Snape over something to do with Remus and me. Every month he transforms in the Shrieking Shack, which is warded to protect the students but it doesn’t stop anyone from going in, and the boys know this.” 

Realisation was drawing across Dorea’s face, and Hermione hated to be the one to tell her what had happened but knew she had no choice.

“At some point, Sirius told Snape how to get in knowing he suspected something about Remus. He thought it was a fantastic joke.” At the last part, her voice was dead, still disbelieving that Sirius thought risking exposing Remus was amusing. She continued, 

“James had been with Evans all evening, and by the time he found out what Sirius had done, it was almost too late. He saved Snape, but it was much too close for anyone's comfort. Not that it ever should have happened, but that's how we got here. Remus won't talk to anyone but me, he’s so afraid of hurting someone. James is still furious at Sirius, and frankly, I’ve been too angry to talk to him either.”

Dorea had remained silent throughout her explanation. Barely betraying her emotions on her face, only the slight hint of understanding as what happened became clear to her. Not that Hermione had expected them too, Dorea had been a consummate Slytherin for as long as she had known her. The years spent as the daughter of the _Noble and Most Ancient House of Black_ having long since schooled any shocked reactions out of her. 

Regardless of watching any emotions play out, Hermione still felt terrible she was the one to tell Dorea about the damage her sons had done to one another. Although, she felt relieved to be sharing the burden all the same. Desperate for someone to offer her a way of processing such a terrible turn of events. 

Moments passed in silence—both of them taking small sips of their tea while Hermione’s words settled around them. Eventually, Dorea spoke. 

“I suppose the question is whether you’re willing to hear his explanation. I won’t disagree with you that it should never have happened, but that boy has been mine since James pulled him off the Express in first year, and I refuse to believe any one of my sons would do something so malicious.”

Hermione knew she was right. Sirius was brash, and reckless, and above all _loyal_. She’d seen him over the final weeks of term, and it had been obvious the distance between the Marauders had weighed on him. The usually loud and wild boy became increasingly withdrawn in a way that would have concerned her had she not been so angry. 

Looking back now, she knew Sirius regretted his actions. Not because of whatever arbitrary punishment Dumbledore had decreed but because of the knowledge of quite how badly he had hurt his friend. Still, the anger burned in her, but perhaps in a way that could be extinguished through time and explanation. 

* * *

Regulus had never missed Sirius more than he had at this moment. He knew Sirius had stood in his place a year before but looking at the figure in front of him Regulus didn’t know how he had it in him to resist. Because all he could feel was an overwhelming sense of fear and a feeling that the person before him was wrong somehow. 

He buried all his thoughts behind walls of occlumency. Instinctively knowing to shield his thoughts from this _man_ before him. If he even could be called that. Regulus could tell he’d been attractive once, but now there was something so unsettling about him that it was the furthest thing from his mind. 

Instead, he looked up into the permanently bloodshot eyes of the man proclaiming himself Lord Voldemort and felt only fear. 

He had heard stories of this wizard. Tales passed around the dormitories of their saviour, here to cleanse society of the filth his family had warned him about. Regulus knew he had followers, most selected from the oldest, _purest_ families and that to be chosen was the highest honour. 

But here, kneeling before this not quite human figure, all Regulus could think was that he wished Sirius were there to protect him. To stand in front of him in the same way his brother used to defend him from the worst of their mother’s rage. 

But Sirius wasn’t there to protect him anymore. Instead, his brother had abandoned him, leaving Regulus to face the fate that should have been his. To take up the roles and responsibilities that he had never wanted but had thrust upon him when Sirius left. 

He could hear his mother talking about him. How relieved she was to offer a worthy son to the cause after the _unpleasantness_ with her eldest. How swiftly she had dealt with her son. Reminding Regulus all too clearly of the state his brother had crawled through the floo last Christmas. Escaping Grimmauld Place for the last time. How badly Regulus had wanted to help him but had been too afraid to assist. 

Even those thoughts were dismissed though, as all Regulus could think of was the attack on Hogsmeade that he knew had been perpetrated by the individuals in the room with him. How they had knowingly attacked a village filled with children and seemingly felt no remorse over it. 

Not that he supposed any of them had heard third years crying as the stress from the trip reappeared. Or had seen the fear in the other students’ eyes as buildings were set ablaze around them and spells were flying through the air. Seen the deep purple bruises that had appeared under the eyes of so many of his peers, as nightmares plagued even the Slytherin dormitories. 

Finally, conversation regarding his suitability as a follower came to a halt and he was addressed for the first time by the hissing voice of Lord Voldemort. 

“Well then, young Regulus, is it true? Do you wish to join our cause?”

He knew he had no other choice. He wasn’t like Sirius, he lacked the courage to defy his parents, and here, now, he knew he couldn’t deny this _request_. That if he did, his compliance would likely be beaten out of him. Besides, it wasn't as if he had any other options. 

Not like Sirius who had abandoned him for the Potters. He barely knew anyone else outside of Slytherin apart from the ever strange Pandora Malfoy who would likely end up just as wound up in this as he was. 

Breathing deeply, he answered, “It would be an honour, my Lord.”

A grin stretched across thin, pale lips and Regulus held back a shiver. 

“Excellent,” the wizard replied, “We rarely accept one so young into our ranks, but I’ve been assured of your eagerness, so even though you have done _nothing_ to earn such an honour, we shall gladly accept you into our ranks. Trials can come after you have taken my mark.”

His parents looked on pleased behind him, while his cousin Bellatrix cackled madly about how proud she was of her baby cousin. Giving over his forearm, all Regulus could do was think back to the panic he had felt during the attack and how he was agreeing to inflict it on others. 

Those thoughts were quickly drowned out, though. Instead, all his focus was put towards the burning pain coming from the wand pressed against his arm. The white-hot centre where the tip made contact, the waves of pain that radiated out of it through his whole body, making his teeth clench and his muscles strain at the overwhelming sense of wrongness from the whole sensation. 

Distantly, he could hear himself screaming, but eventually, the world went black. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Injury


	15. An Explanation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy sunday!!  
> tysm for the lovely comments - and im so sorry about regulus :( i felt so guilty writing it as im sitting there like - poor baby 😢  
> on a side note tho - this should be the chapter to take us over 50k words which is insane - i honestly can't believe ive written that much - and it does also make me wonder how long its gonna get because i have no idea  
> so tysm for keeping up with it and commenting and kudosing and everything - each one feels like a little hug and totally makes my day so i really apprciate it - THANK YOU!!!  
> 

**Christmas Holidays 1976**

Hermione found herself thinking about her conversation with Dorea frequently over the days before Christmas. She and Remus spent the time quietly together, withdrawn from everything around them in the same way they had spent the rest of the month. 

Their mother had noticed their strange behaviour but refrained from commenting on it. Too busy to spend much time at home, especially around the holidays when money was often tight. Something about the holiday always made their parents more desperate in their search to cure Remus’ lycanthropy, craving a return to the normalcy neither of the twins could remember. 

It meant they were largely left to each other’s company though, so she had plenty of time to think over their conversation. The more Hermione thought about their discussion, the more she knew she needed answers. Needed to understand why Sirius had done it, and her rage slowly faded into disappointed confusion. 

There were other motivations behind her desire to reunite with Sirius too though. Some selfish, some not. If the Whomping Willow Incident had taught her anything, it was that she couldn’t rely on anyone else regarding her brother’s safety. Something that only motivated her to achieve the animagus transformation faster. 

She had continued with her meditations alone easily enough but knew she would eventually need the assistance of someone else. For the moment she still hadn’t seen anything of her form, instead, feeling it flicker on the edge of her subconscious every time she fell into the trance. 

It was close, she was sure. Pattering around just out of reach. She wished she could see _something,_ but she also recalled what she had told Sirius the last time they had talked before _that_ morning. 

That she suspected her stress over everything with Hogsmeade was preventing her from seeing anything further with her meditations. It hadn’t changed, maybe the source of her anxiety had, everything to do with Remus having firmly supplanted any underlying tensions from the attack, but she was still on edge. 

Her heightened desire to find her form may have been working against her too; leaving her straining desperately to see a point that was just out of reach, rather than allowing her form to make itself known to her naturally. 

Still, she knew it was close, and once she started seeing even the smallest of details, it would only be a matter of waiting for it to solidify itself in her psyche. Waiting to truly feel this more primal version of herself and for the right storm to ease her into the transformation. 

It was what she needed someone else for. To help her as she actually tried to transform, to assist in case anything went wrong, and Sirius was still the only person who knew what she was attempting.

Logically, Hermione knew she could ask James, but she also knew she couldn’t for all the same reasons she hadn’t the first time. Besides, as angry as she had been with him, something about the transformation had felt private. A secret between her and Sirius that she couldn’t bring herself to betray to the others. 

Her other, less selfish motivation for resuming communication with Sirius, was the desire to give Remus back his friends. She knew how much he relied on them and how they had been his support through his years at Hogwarts. Helping make the endless cycle of pain and exhaustion worth it. Plus, she didn’t want to risk what had happened affecting the future in the same way it had once before. 

Knowing she planned to talk to Sirius, Hermione also knew she had to tell Remus first. Her brother didn’t deserve to be caught off guard by her attempts at reparations. Even though she knew Remus would never have expected her to break things off with the other Marauders, she also knew he had been relieved to have an escape in her. 

Therefore, she somewhat hesitantly approached his door. It was late, and her parents had already gone to sleep, claiming the desire to be well-rested for Christmas the next day, not that they had any serious plans. Knocking quietly, she heard her brother’s somewhat groggy voice come from within, 

“Yes?”

Peeking her head around the door, Hermione watched as a sleep-rumpled Remus moved to sit up in his bed. Immediately she felt guilty for waking him. She had planned on coming earlier but had worried about their parents overhearing. Neither she nor Remus had told them what had happened, both happy for the Incident to be something Dumbledore kept within the walls of Hogwarts. Hermione, for once, agreeing with the Headmaster. 

Similarly, neither wanted to see their parent’s reactions as they both already knew what to expect. Overly attentive doting from their mother, who knew of no other way to deal with what had happened to her son; they both loved her for it, but it would do nothing to make Remus feel better and instead was more likely to force him back into a self-pitting melancholy. 

Their father’s reaction would have been worse. A stony silence that followed whenever Remus’ lycanthropy was discussed in anything but the vaguest terms, and then a conversation regarding whether it was appropriate for Remus to be attending Hogwarts. It would inevitably have sent her brother back into his self-loathing and made Hermione mad to the point of arguing with their father. 

Their mother would be silent in the background as ever, unwilling to take sides or risk commenting on something she didn’t fully understand. Eventually, she would have called for peace, but by that point, the damage would have been done. 

Instead of dealing with all that, they had both remained silent on the subject, relieved when neither of their parents asked more the cursory questions about their term at Hogwarts. 

“Hermione?” His eyebrows were drawn together, and worry coated her name. 

She didn’t blame Remus for being concerned, in hindsight waking her brother in the middle of the night was hardly in character for her. At least not since their younger, nightmare filled years, but she had already resolved to tell him. 

Inviting herself to sit on the end of his bed, they mirrored the conversation they shared over the summer, and she finally started talking. 

“Remus,” it was a whisper, “You know I love you, right?”

It was the wrong thing to start with, and she knew that even before watching fear flood his eyes, but she didn’t know how else to start the conversation.

“Of course, I do Hermione, what’s wrong?” his voice was tense. 

“Nothing’s wrong - I promise,” she rushed to reassure him, but he still looked anxious, “I’ve just been thinking.”

His face was slowly softening as she continued to speak, fear draining off his face, leaving him just looking tired.

“I know you didn’t ask me not to, but I’ve just been so angry I haven’t _wanted_ to talk to him, but I’ve been thinking, and I need to know why.”

“You’re talking about Sirius,” he sighed, clearly having understood her ramblings. 

“Yes,” she nodded, voice apologetic. 

“Hermione, I never expected you to avoid him for me.”

“I know, Remus. I didn’t think you did. Truly I’ve just been too angry to see him, but then Mrs P had me for tea, and all I could think about since is how awkward it would have been if either of the boys had shown up and how much I needed to know why Sirius could have done what he did.”

It wasn’t entirely true, but she couldn’t tell Remus the Potter’s knew about his condition. Resigned acceptance crossed her brother's face as she spoke, and Hermione knew he realised what she planned to do. 

“Mini, this is between Sirius and me - I never wanted it to affect your relationship with him.”

“How could it not!” She cried, all thoughts of wanting to know why he’d done it disappearing temporarily, “How can I just carry on being friends with him knowing he’d put you in that much danger?”

He was shaking his head as she spoke, but still, she continued, “And I think I need to know for you too.”

“What?”

“We’re all mad at him. You, me, James, all of us. And frankly, no matter his explanation, there is no excusing what he did, but I can see the four of you drifting apart because of this already.”

“Hermione,” his voice was cautionary, but she didn’t care, too caught up in finally voicing her fears for her brother’s friendships. 

“I’m not saying you have to get over what he did, or even forgive him for it but I’m asking if you really want to risk losing your friends over this. The boys who are your brothers in all but blood. I don’t want you to lose that because of a terrible but stupid mistake made by a teenager.”

He growled at her statement, “He could have made me _a murderer!_ ”

“I know! I know what he did, but I also know Sirius, and we both know that _never_ would have been his intention. You can be angry at him all you want but don’t give up on him just yet. I’m going to ask him about it, and to be honest probably yell at him a little bit too but I can’t give up yet, and I don’t think you want to either.”

Remus’ expression broke into one of unspeakable pain, and she instantly felt guilty for bringing it up. It wasn’t as if she could ever genuinely understand her brother’s position and perhaps it was too much too soon. 

Perhaps, it was too much to ask of him altogether. 

“I’m sorry,” she rushed to apologise, “I shouldn’t have brought it up, it’s your business, and it’s not my place to tell you what to do.”

“Oh, Hermione,” he pulled her into his arms, and the two of them breathed each other in for a few moments. They rarely hugged anymore, yet another thing age had stolen from tactile children, but at that moment they both needed the comfort. 

“You’re right. I don’t want to lose them, but I _can’t_ have something like this happen again. I wouldn’t survive it, and I don’t know how I can trust him after what he did.”

Relief soared through her at Remus’ words despite their negative tone; that there was the chance to fix things even if they were never as they were before. 

“Did you see him over the last week of term?” She questioned, thinking of Sirius’ haunted eyes and longing glances at his friends, never embodying his Animagus form more, “I’m pretty sure you don’t need to worry about it, he looked like he was punishing himself more than you ever could.”

Remus nodded slightly at his words, but she knew it would take time to build that trust back up. 

Still, at least it was something; a start. 

* * *

Hermione knew she needed to talk to Sirius alone and that he and James still weren’t talking, but she didn’t want to risk having it become a strange three-way conversation, so she settled on owling Dorea to help her set up the meeting. The older woman more than willing to help with any attempts to repair things between her disconnected sons.

Agreeing that it would be simplest to host at the manor Dorea made up some excuse to get James out of the house leaving Sirius alone for Hermione to talk to. Not that he knew that. 

Her heart was beating rapidly as she stepped through the floo. Remus knew what she was doing as she was unwilling to leave him in the dark through any part of it. Sirius, however, was still unaware and looked shocked to see her standing in the Potter’s entrance hall. 

“Mini?” 

“Sirius,” she breathed in reply, suddenly unsure how to proceed now they were together, staring at each other from across the room like they were both afraid to make the first move. 

“What are you doing here?” He eventually questioned, clearly unsure why she was alone with him, especially as their last conversation had ended so explosively. 

“I was hoping to talk to you.”

Sirius nodded at her response; surprise evident on his face like he had assumed she would never speak with him again.

“Um, okay. Want to talk in the parlour?”

Nodding awkwardly, the two ventured into the room she had met with Dorea Potter in only the week before. Calling for tea, silence suffocated them both, so different from the atmosphere the last time she was there. 

“Why are you here, Hermione?” Sirius’ voice broke through the quiet, he sounded defeated even as he asked it and she knew she had to do her utmost to fix what had happened. Unwilling to see any of her boys look so dejected in her presence.

“I guess I just want to know why you did it.”

He chuckled dryly at her question, “You never could ask the easy questions now could you, Mini.”

She smiled reassuringly at him, trying to drag the explanation of what possessed him to betray Remus like he had out of the sad figure in front of her. 

“I told you I never thought Snape would be in any danger and I wasn’t lying.”

Without rage clouding her judgement, she had known that. As hot-headed as Sirius was, he would never intentionally have put someone at as much risk as he had that night, not even Snape and certainly not Remus. 

Still, he had done it, and she needed to know why, “I know you didn’t, but you still put Snape in that position, and you risked Remus’ safety too.”

“I know,” he replied shamefaced, but something told Hermione he still didn’t quite understand the gravity of the risk he’d exposed Remus to. Even as guilty as he felt, there was an element of the situation that he had still failed to realise. 

“Do you?” she questioned. “Do you understand what would have happened had James not saved Snape?”

Sirius looked lost for words, so she continued. “If Snape had survived meeting Moony that night, he would have been infected, but far more likely is that he would not have survived the encounter at all. Either way, you would have condemned my brother. 

“The punishment for biting someone while transformed is death, no matter whether it was intentional or not. Even if, by some miracle, Dumbledore managed to cover up what had happened, and my brother wasn’t sentenced to _die._ He would still have had to live with the knowledge of what had occurred.

“How do you think Remus would have coped with that, knowing he had ‘cursed’ somebody else. What do you propose my brother would have done considering how much he fears himself already?”

Despite the anger colouring her tone and in her words, Hermione was surprisingly calm as she explained what he had truly risked that evening. She supposed she’d had plenty of time to come to terms with it, having spent a month processing how much danger Remus had been in, the main reason it had taken her so long to come seeking answers. 

Sirius, however, had gone pale at her words and looked sickened as he was faced with the reality of what he had done. Not that she had mentioned any of the other potential effects of his stupidity. That no matter what happened, she probably would have lost her brother, either way. How if news of Remus’ lycanthropy had got out, which it most likely would have, she would have been tarred with the same brush, leaving her and her parents to face never-ending scrutiny and suspicions. 

“Hermione,” he whispered, “I’m sorry. You must know, I’m sorry.”

“I do, but I still want to know why. What could have possibly made you betray Remus’ trust even without knowing the depth of the consequences.”

He shifted at her question, uncomfortable. They both knew any excuse he had was never going to be enough. Glancing down at their mugs, tea cold and untouched between them, he steeled himself and started to explain. 

“You know Snape’s suspected something about Moony for ages now, and even though Remus has never really done anything to him, Snape hates him for being friends with Prongs and me.” 

She nodded, the years of animosity had only fuelled Snape’s desire to find an answer to the secret they worked so hard to keep hidden. And, she knew he had no issue holding perceived slights against those who had done nothing to him. Thinking of the way an adult Snape had treated Harry and Neville for their parents' sins, but this was different. Sirius had been the one in the wrong here, no matter how much she hated the idea of people finding out the truth about her brother. 

Still, Sirius continued, “James and I found him and Lily arguing. It wasn’t anything to do with you or Remus, but you somehow came up anyway, and Snape started saying some really foul things about the two of you, and I just snapped.

“I started arguing with him, and at some point, James took Lily away so we were left alone. And he just kept on saying how all he needed was proof and he could ruin us; ruin Moony, and I couldn’t risk it. I knew that even rumours could create questions that Remus’ can’t afford people asking, so I just wanted him to keep quiet about everything. I thought he’d hear the howling and scratching, get too scared to get any closer, and finally leave it alone. 

“I never thought he’d actually be in any danger, I assumed he’d give up long before he actually got into the shack. I’d _hoped_ I was fixing the problem, but James came back and didn’t even give me a chance to explain before everything went to shit. 

“I know it was stupid, now. I was a fucking idiot who didn’t think it through. I was just so angry at him for constantly prying into Moony’s business that I couldn’t think of any other way to get him to shut up.”

She had stayed quiet through his speech, but it explained a lot. The desire to protect his friends, and even going about it in a stupid way was something quintessentially Sirius, but she knew she couldn’t let it continue. Far worse things could happen in the future if he didn’t learn to control his temper. 

“Sirius,” she sighed, unsure how to answer. Not forgiving him, but more understanding now she truly knew it was never a joke to him. “You’ve got to learn to think about the consequences of your actions. Otherwise, something even worse could happen.” 

“I know, Mini, I do. But I’ll doubt I’ll have the chance to cock up again this badly anyway. None of the boys are talking to me, and I don’t blame them. I don’t deserve it.”

And there it was, another familiar facet of Sirius Black. Taking total and complete blame for everything. Although, on this occasion, Hermione thought he may, for the first time, be right.

A part of her still feared for her brother, but the other, more reasonable part knew Sirius had to learn from this. Had to take this experience and make sure another rash mistake wasn’t made in the future, rather than wallowing in his regrets. 

“You’ll never be able to go back to exactly how you were before,” she started, wanting to get the hardest truth out of the way first. 

“But that doesn’t mean you can’t all have something. The relationship may change, but you're all too important to each other to give up completely. It will take a long time to regain their trust, and even after you have it, this memory will hang over you all like a dark cloud. Ready to remind you of what could happen, so you have to ask yourself, Sirius Black. How much is my brother’s friendship worth to you? How long are you willing to fight to repair the damage you have wrought?”

Sirius looked floored by her proclamation and Hermione didn’t blame him. He had likely never seen her as serious as she was in that moment, but she knew he had to face the reality of the path ahead of him. 

Even as she thought it, shock changed to determination and Sirius finally replied, 

“Whatever. I’ll do whatever it takes, because I can’t lose another brother.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: none i can think of!


	16. A Meeting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy not sunday!!!  
> a lil extra chapter for y'all because january's kinda miserable so why not give you something extra to read while we're all trapped inside. there'll still be a chapter on sunday and everything i just figured we do an extra one this week, so here ya go  
> pinterest board : https://pin.it/Uhesip0
> 
> TW in end notes

**Christmas Holidays 1976**

After their talk, Hermione returned to Lupin Cottage and told Remus everything she and Sirius had discussed. How badly he felt over what happened. How, as terrible as his actions were, they had sincere motivations behind them, and how hard his friend was willing to work to retain that status. 

Leaving Remus to contemplate her words, Hermione retreated to her room and thought over her own position. She knew she hadn’t been proactive enough recently. Too distracted by anxieties brought about by the attack, the situation with her brother and Kingsley. 

Kingsley. 

Who she felt so guilty for ignoring the last weeks of term but knew there was no explanation she could give him. 

Part of her wished she could tell him, but Hermione knew she couldn’t. There was too much that could go wrong if people thought they were sure to survive. Growing overly confident in their assurances, or worse if they _knew_ they wouldn’t and gave up any chance of fighting. 

There was also the risk of the wrong people finding out. She didn’t doubt his loyalties, Kingsley would never follow Voldemort. Hermione was sure of that much, but she also knew information could be taken by force and it wasn’t a chance she was willing to take. 

She could risk neither Riddle discovering what she knew nor those she loved being tortured in an attempt to extract it so she couldn’t tell Kingsley. Instead, it would remain yet another of the secrets between them. 

Truthfully, Hermione didn’t think she would even have told Pandora had her friend not already known _something_. So much of her plan now hinged on her friend, that Hermione didn’t know what she would have done without her, but not even Pandora knew all of her secrets. 

Still, Hermione knew she would have to start doing more. She may have given herself five years but time passed quickly, and in the sixth months since her ‘enlightenment’ she hadn’t achieved anything worthwhile, and the fates wouldn’t grant her a third chance. 

She would have to refocus on her goals. On training, so she never felt as helpless as she did during the Hogsmeade attack. On healing, so she was never left in the position of merely keeping someone alive, reliant on somebody else to save them, and above all on her plan to destroy Tom Riddle. 

* * *

The Christmas Holidays passed quickly as usual. For once, though, James was relieved to be returning to the castle. 

Things still weren’t as they were before _that night_ and part of him suspected they never would be. The time apart seemed to have done his friends good though, and they were slowly working on rebuilding the friendship that had so rapidly fallen apart. 

James was still conflicted over what had happened though. He was pleased Remus and Sirius were reconciling, even if they remained hesitant around each other, but he couldn’t look past what occurred. 

He still saw that image. Snape’s figure, small in the darkness of the passage, ready to face off against a werewolf alone. At night James remembered the fear he’d felt in that moment far more often than that from the Hogsmeade Attack, nonsensical as it was. 

He still couldn’t believe Sirius would have put Remus in so much danger. Or even Snape, as much as he may hate the greasy git, he knew nobody deserved that fate. Not that he had mentioned any of this to his friends, unwilling to burden their tentative friendship more than necessary. 

He had to talk to someone though, and there was only one other person who was aware of the situation, so James resolved to speak to Hermione. 

Seeking her out on the Express back up to Scotland, she was alone in the compartment by some miracle. Not that he supposed it was that unexpected. She rarely interacted with people other than the Marauders, Pandora Malfoy and recently, Shacklebolt. Not that he had seen much of the two of them together over the previous month. 

He couldn’t think about that at the moment, though. Too distracted by his own swirling thoughts and the desperate need to talk to someone. Hermione had always been a somewhat neutral party for the Marauder’s disputes in the past. Usually considering whatever argument they inevitably found themselves in too ridiculous for her to have an opinion on, but this time it was different. 

Sliding the door open Hermione glanced up and smiled at him questioningly, confused as to why he was seeking her out. 

“Mini, can we talk?” 

She usually frowned slightly at the nickname. Only really willing to put with them from Sirius, but on this occasion, she merely nodded and gestured to the bench opposite her. Taking a seat, James found he didn’t know where to begin. 

What could he say? That he didn’t know how to forgive his best friend despite the fact Remus, who was the person that had been truly wronged, clearly had. It sounded ridiculous, and yet it was the truth. 

Summoning up his courage, James spoke, “I don’t understand how Remus has forgiven Sirius so easily.” 

Instead of replying, Hermione shot him a questioning look and gestured for him to continue.

“I just … I just don’t understand how they’ve gone back to being friends despite what happened. How can Remus just forgive him?”

“Maybe he hasn’t.”

“What?”

“Remus hasn’t forgiven Sirius for what happened. Not yet, and honestly maybe not ever, but he doesn’t want to lose his friends over it, so they’ve both decided to try and move past it.”

Somehow, it made sense to James, but he still didn’t understand why it had happened. Why Sirius had chosen to reveal the Marauders deepest secret to a boy they all hated. 

“I just don’t understand how he could do it.” He exclaimed involuntarily, barely aware of the words leaving his mouth he’d been asking himself the question for so long. 

“Well, he didn’t see it like you did.” Hermione explained, “To Sirius, in that moment, making sure Snape was too afraid to tell anyone what he suspected was more important than keeping the secret itself from him.”

“But he still betrayed Remus! And laughed about it. He and Peter, there in our dorm chuckling away at sending someone off to die!”

“I never said I agreed with him. I’m still working on accepting it, but I _know_ that wasn’t Sirius’ intention when he told Snape about the Shack that night. I can’t speak for Peter, but Sirius just didn’t see it the same way as us. He never considered the dangers, so there was no reason it wasn’t amusing to him. He recognises them now though and will likely spend the rest of his life making up for what he did.”

Her words stole all his anger from him. He knew Sirius had come to realise the gravity of his actions, and over the last week he’d been even more melancholy and regretful than when things had initially fallen apart. 

Still, it was the first time he and Sirius had seen things so drastically differently. One amused, one horrified; so contrasting from their usual identical outlook that he still didn’t understand how it had happened. How Sirius had been so naive as not to realise what he had done but also how he and his best friend had come to be so different. 

As he explained, understanding drew across Hermione’s face. “Can you honestly tell me you wouldn’t have been laughing along with Sirius before the summer?”

Her question floored him. Because he knew he couldn’t. Before the incident by the lake, he couldn’t guarantee that he wouldn’t have been happily laughing along with Sirius, so confident in their righteousness. 

While the depth of the damage he was responsible for wasn’t clear until Hermione pointed it out, something about that day had started him on the path to recognition. James knew before then he never would have had the same understanding of what Sirius had done. 

“No,” he reluctantly admitted, and she smiled sadly at his confession. 

“I know, James. This year changed you a lot. Between the lake, the attack, and everything else, you finally grew up. But Sirius isn’t there yet, so you’ll have to decide if you're willing to wait for him.”

As she said it, Hermione looked so much older than her sixteen years, and there was something dark in her eyes that looked exhausted. She had always been more mature than the rest of them. Her and Remus both. The two of them forced to grow up before their time. 

But this was different. 

There was something about Hermione now that seemed like it had seen far more of the world's darkness than he even knew of and once he had noticed it, James realised it had been there for a _very_ long time. 

* * *

Supper passed quickly; mind preoccupied by his conversation with Hermione but also by the one he knew was coming. 

James had rarely spent meals alone at Hogwarts. He and Sirius attached at the hip from that first train ride, and even then, there had always been the other Marauder’s to fill any alone time. 

The previous month had been strange for him then as he experienced the castle in a solitary setting for the first time. Eating meals alone and generally avoiding his friends. Not that he had needed to, they were all avoiding each other as much as possible.

He was entirely caught up in his thoughts when she sat across from him. There was no extravagant welcoming back feast like in September, but the first meal after the holidays was always a little livelier than most. The Great Hall filled with the excited chatter of students who hadn’t seen each other in weeks. All exchanging tales from their holidays and enjoying each other's company after the few weeks apart. 

James neither participated nor noticed any of it. Instead, he was shocked to be pulled from his thoughts by a concerned voice. A hand on his, shaking slightly, trying to get his attention. 

“James?”

Blinking back into awareness he took in the concerned features of Lily Evans and realised she had been trying to get his attention for the past few minutes.

“Lily! Sorry, my mind was elsewhere. How was your holiday?” he asked, desperate for the distraction. 

She gave him a puzzled look but answered anyway, “Okay, thank you. It was nice to see my parents.”

“Good, good - and your sister?” He continued, hesitantly, knowing about their fraught relationship from the time spent together before Christmas. Their conversations having grown increasingly personal as they both dreaded spending the holiday alone with their ‘siblings.’

Lily sighed before answering, “Okay, I guess. I try to be civil for the sake of our parents, but Petunia has different ideas. She’s got a new boyfriend though, so she spent most of her time with him, which was a relief.”

He smiled at her sympathetically. They had both known it would be the case beforehand, but neither of their breaks had been as restful as intended. He hoped her evening would be more peaceful than his was bound to be though. 

“Sirius and I didn’t talk the whole time,” he confessed. 

Her eyes widened. Though they had discussed the awkward holidays that awaited them, she didn’t know any of the specifics that had led to their falling out and was too respectful to pry any further. 

“Really?”

“Yeah - I’m going to try and deal with it tonight,” he said grimacing as he did. She mirrored his expression but quickly switched it to a pitying smile. 

“James, it’ll be fine. I’m sure you’ve actually been thinking about talking to him for a while now, you’re just too stubborn to admit it.”

He chuckled at her statement. Both she and Hermione had been right. He didn’t want the Marauders’ fight to continue but feared discussing it would have meant a permanent end to their friendship. Instead, electing to ignore his friends as if that would have solved the issue. 

Nodding, he agreed, “I know, but it’s probably going to be a disaster no matter what.”

“Maybe not,” Lily reassured, “Just make sure to hear each other out. You can all be a little hot-headed, and I get the impression this isn’t the conversation for that.” 

Taking her advice, James bid her goodnight, bracing himself for a return to Gryffindor Tower. 

* * *

The dorm was quiet when he returned. His friends were on their respective beds, ignoring each other. Sirius was playing with the muggle lighter he preferred using for his smokes, Remus absentmindedly flicking through a book, and Peter watching the two as he tried to figure out the best way to fill the silence.

There was none of the usual anarchy that came with a return to Hogwarts, and in the awkward silence, it seemed all the advances Sirius and Remus had made in repairing their friendship had vanished with their return to the castle. 

James knew it couldn’t continue. The last month had been painful enough for them all, and while Hermione was right that healing wouldn’t be instantaneous, he knew it was also time to take that first step. 

Steeling himself, he addressed the room, “Marauders’ meeting.”

It was something they’d come up with as Third Years following one of their first _serious_ , as it had seemed at the time, arguments. They had spent a week accusing each other of stealing Hogsmeade goodies before Remus realised he’d left his stash of chocolate in the Hospital Wing following the full moon. 

They’d decided they needed a problem-solving mechanism then. And though they rarely used it, he knew all his friends would stay through the ensuing conversation. 

“This can’t continue. We have to talk about it.” None of them looked thrilled at the concept, but they knew it was necessary. 

“I want to know why,” he asked, looking directly at Sirius for the first time in weeks. 

His friend flinched under the attention but readied himself to answer, “Because I’m a fool who thought he was doing the right thing.”

He felt his eyebrows shoot up his face and rage course through him at Sirius’ words. But then, he remembered what Lily had said about keeping a cool head and forced himself to calm down. 

Glancing at Remus, it was clear he had already heard this before, but James was relieved to see it was news to Peter too, not alone in his astonishment. He knew Hermione said Sirius saw what had happened differently, but he had never suspected Sirius thought he had been in the right.

He failed to understand how his friend had ever even considered it. He assumed it had been a moment of hot-headed recklessness that Sirius had swiftly come to regret once he understood the danger he had placed Remus in. The thought it may have been intentional filled him with previously unknown rage. 

Pushing down his anger, he growled out his question, “What?” 

Instead of Sirius answering though, Remus’ calm tones interrupted, “He planned to scare Snape into silence.” 

James was stunned his friend had ever considered it an option. Snape had been hunting for the truth about Remus for years. Having long suspected there was something more to his absences than the rest of their peers. James knew Snape would have stopped at nothing to discover the truth. 

He knew it was partly their fault Snape was so determined to discover it, even more so after the Lake Incident. Snape blamed them for him calling Lily that word, but the Marauders had never solely been to blame for anything that happened between them. 

He didn’t deny he was responsible for some of it. Rivalries playing out in ways he was uncomfortable with looking back through more mature eyes, but all their actions had been reciprocated. Snape and his friends were all too willing to hex first when tensions were running high, and while James had certainly started his fair share of their altercations, he’d never been alone in it. 

It was different now. The deal he’d struck with Lily meant James had avoided the Slytherins throughout the Autumn Term. Determined not to blow his chance of being friends with her, even if that was as far as their relationship went. 

He assumed the rest of the Marauders’ had followed his lead. He certainly hadn’t heard differently. Moony had never really agreed with their actions anyway, and Sirius had been distracted by something all term, though James didn’t know what. It only left Peter who never would have acted alone, so James assumed their rivalry had been left in the past. 

Thinking back to the argument he’d overheard between Lily and Snape though he suspected it wasn’t the truth. And instead, Snape had been more determined than ever to discredit the Marauders and himself in particular. 

All of it meant Snape would never have stopped in his pursuit of the truth. James could only assume Sirius hadn’t counted on how determined he was to ruin them when he concocted his plan. 

His confusion must have betrayed itself on his face because Remus continued. “Snape’s been looking for ‘proof’ of my lycanthropy for years, hoping to start the petition to string me up. He’s also taken a particular objection to Hermione, even though she’s never done anything to him. Sirius’ grand plan was to shut him up for good and get him to stop spewing his bile to anyone who would listen.”

“And you're okay with this?” he questioned. He couldn’t deny Sirius the desire to get Snape to stop looking into their personal affairs. Especially not when he’d apparently started in on Hermione too, but he was shocked Remus would even hear Sirius’ reasoning out, considering what he had done.

James did wonder how much of Sirius’ method was less a reflection of himself and more the environment he had been raised in, though.

Sirius rarely talked about his time at Grimmauld Place, but they had all seen the scars that littered his body even before last Christmas. And he knew the effects stayed with him and made his friend more brash and quick to anger than he would be otherwise. It may have explained why Sirius thought sending Snape out to face a werewolf was an acceptable method of keeping him quiet; even if he never intended for Snape to actually be in any danger. 

He doubted there had been many reasonable responses to misbehaviour in the _House of Black,_ after all _._ Especially, thinking back to their younger years and the way Sirius had flinched at the sight of a wand whenever they were in trouble but continued to subtly position himself in front of them. How could Sirius have been expected to learn any better with no other examples? Not that he agreed with what Sirius had done. As much as he may be able to explain some of Sirius’ reasoning, he would never accept his actions. 

“No,” Remus admitted, “I am decidedly not okay with it, but I can accept it happened and _try_ to leave it in the past. On the understanding that if anything like it ever happens again, it will be the end. I will never deal with him again.”

While he still didn’t understand how Sirius could be so short-sighted as to think his plan would have worked, he was at least reassured Sirius hadn’t truly considered the dangers when sending Snape to the Shack. Thinking more of his imagined benefits than the very real risk he was exposing his friend to. 

Part of him was disappointed there hadn’t been more of an argument, hoping for the catharsis of a fight. Still, he also recognised it wouldn’t have solved any of their problems, and likely would have exacerbated them through things said in the heat of the moment. 

Instead, James accepted the explanation given. That Sirius hadn’t thought Snape would truly be in danger and was trying to help his friends. Not forgiving him for his stupidity but at least understanding why he’d done it. 

As much as he had craved the release of a fight, it wasn’t his place to dispute the answer Moony was content with. Not when he had been put in such a terrible position, and his acceptance was a way of controlling some small aspect of the situation. 

Determined to move them all past it, James turned back to look at Sirius, “You do _anything_ like it again, and I’m gone with Moony. No explanations, no nothing.”

Sirius nodded, accepting, and James finally let out a sigh of relief. 

“Okay then, who's up for a game of midnight Quidditch?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Reference to Child Abuse


	17. The Sunset

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy sunday!!  
> fingercrossed you've already read it but just in case please make sure you read the extra chapter i posted this week, so if you haven't read chapter 16 yet - start there!!  
> pinterest board: https://pin.it/Uhesip0
> 
> TW in end notes - PLEASE check if you have concerns about any of the tags, theyre in the end notes as always, this is just a warning/request

**January 1977**

Returning to the castle was strange, the mood so different from before Christmas. It seemed the weeks away had resolved much of the remaining tensions. That combined with the promise Hogsmeade trips were back on and would now be accompanied by a host of Aurors had done much to dismiss the previously dismal atmosphere. 

Instead, spirits remain high for much of the first few weeks of term for everyone but Hermione. She spent the time researching as much as possible, anxieties over the future having reappeared. Outside of classes, she holed up in her dorm, barely sleeping and avoiding everyone as she frantically searched through the new set of books Pandora had ’borrowed’ from her family library. The promise she had made to herself about refocusing on her efforts against Tom Riddle not forgotten. 

Her hunt for a method of controlling fiendfyre had so far been unsuccessful, but some of the new acquisitions had shown promise. Mainly suggesting it was a matter of channelling your intentions into the flames. Something that would likely prove problematic in the presence of a Horcrux so Hermione knew she would need to practice before she ever got near one. Not that she knew where to do so, considering there were few places it would be safe to conjure the cursed flames. 

As much as she wished she could continue with her research on the topic, it wasn’t the only area that needed investigating. Combined with the necessity she maintained her studious appearance, Hermione found herself in the library thumbing through a book on Wizarding genealogy as she tried to learn more about where Riddle could have hidden his Horcruxes. 

For all she had hidden away from the world, when she did leave the confines of her room Hermione had always been accompanied by Remus or Pandora. So she was alone in public for the first time in weeks when he found her. 

Hermione rarely interacted with Severus Snape; they shared few classes, and she had no desire to associate with him outside of them. As he rounded the corner to the narrow aisle she was standing in though; disdain instantly crossed his face. 

She knew she had done nothing to the boy, but the few times they had interacted he had made his opinion of her clear. He considered her some kind of Marauder groupie, his hatred of Remus and her brother’s band of friends spilling over onto her. 

Hermione had never let it bother her. And now, with the knowledge, Snape would only defect from Voldemort because he had endangered Lily Evans, not caring for her husband or son, or even that he had willingly followed a blood-supremacist, Hermione found she had even fewer reasons to bother herself with his opinions. 

The sins laid against him were numerous, after all. And even though many of those were the actions of a different, older Snape, Hermione knew what his intentions had been when he went to the Shack. At best, he had been hoping to expose Remus’ condition if he hadn’t had more sinister goals. So Hermione was unaffected by his sneering. 

Snape though, quite clearly was furious with her and Hermione could only assume it was to do with the Incident. Part of her understood his anger, intentional or not Sirius had sent him to what may have been his death and that was unforgivable, but she had made her peace with Sirius’ role in it. And while she still held Sirius accountable for what happened, Hermione knew Snape held a degree of responsibility too. 

He had made the choice to go to the Shack after all. Even with his suspicions, and the years of research into lycanthropy, he had made the decision to endanger himself in his pursuit of _proof_. So, as much as he may blame Sirius, and her brother, and her, she laid it at his feet in equal measure. 

Besides, Hermione knew if he weren’t bound by an unbreakable vow, Snape gladly would have told everyone about Remus’ condition. And that he had gone to the Shack in a desperate attempt to finally win one over on the Marauders, uncaring what sharing that information would mean.

Hatred was evident on his face as Snape addressed her, “Ahh, the Lupin _bitch_ , finally shed your guard dog I see. And to hole up in the library too - need some alone time with the books? Tell me, is your bibliophilia the only thing you share with your brother.”

They both knew he didn’t believe what he was implying. Snape had spent far too long tracking Remus’ movements not to realise she had none of the symptoms, nor disappeared periodically with the moon. 

Still, he was hurt over what had happened and bound to silence. She was one of the few people he could take his frustrations out on. Not that she appreciated bearing the brunt of his anger. 

“Snape.” She pursed her lips, “How can I help you?” Her tone was cool, refusing to be baited by his petty comments.

He looked angered by her lack of reaction, sneering out his response. “The only thing you could possibly do for me is tell me that you’re taking your disgusting brother and leaving this school for good.”

“Well seeing as we both know that won’t be happening anytime soon, I suggest you prepare yourself for disappointment. Why are you here, anyway?” She gestured to the dusty books surrounding them. The genealogy section was rarely visited, and Hermione was somewhat surprised he had even found her there. 

“I could ask the same of you - genealogy books? Hoping to find something to redeem your muddied family tree?”

“No muddier than yours,” she spat out, her plan not to react to his baiting forgotten. The weeks of stress and sleep deprivation made her quick to anger, and Remus was always a sensitive topic, so she found herself poking where she knew there was a bruise. 

“Maybe not, but we both know there are things much worse than a muggle mother lurking in your family. Someone will figure it out eventually, you know.” 

“At least thanks to Sirius we know it won’t be from you.” It was a petty reply, but the threat of someone discovering Remus’ lycanthropy was always a possibility and one she worried about constantly. 

Besides, no one could claim she didn’t have a vindictive streak when it came to protecting those she loved. Thinking of _sneak_ spelt out in spots across Marietta Edgecombe’s forehead, or Umbridge’s face as she was dragged into the woods, it was hardly the worst thing she had done. 

Still, Snape froze at her comment. Anger clear on his face but something else buried in the depths of his eyes too. Fear, Hermione thought, but it disappeared quickly, fury replacing it once more. 

“True. You lot may have tricked me into a vow, but I’m sure with some hints someone will figure it out soon enough, and then that _creature_ will get what he deserves.”

This time it was Hermione who felt rage flash through her at the idea Snape would go so far as to try and break the vow, risking his own life, in his desperation for someone else to uncover the truth. 

Stepping closer, she approached him slowly. Neither spoke at first, the two of them inches apart in the narrow stacks. It would have looked intimate with any other couple, but the waves of hatred rolling off them destroyed that notion. 

Close as they were Hermione hissed her reply quietly, venom coating the words, “Maybe, but either way, I doubt it would be the last death you're responsible for.” 

Her words stunned him, not only into silence but into stepping backwards until his back was pressed against the shelves, “What?” he whispered, confused. 

“Actions have consequences, and we all know what you hope to do when we leave Hogwarts.” 

Snape straightened his spine at her accusations. Hermione didn’t know if it was at the implication he would be responsible for her brother’s death or his desire to join Riddle’s _cause,_ but he was proud nonetheless. “Sometimes, change is necessary. Can’t have dangerous beasts running around forever after all.” 

“Well, remember you thought that when it comes back to haunt you.” 

Logically, Hermione knew Snape’s anger was his attempt at processing the Incident, but she wasn’t about to let him get away without knowing the consequences of his desires. 

If Snape was so determined to reveal the truth about Remus, Hermione wanted him to know the blood would be on his hands. And, that if she somehow failed entirely and the worst happened, Lily’s blood would be there too. 

Perhaps, it was a lot to make a seventeen-year-old Snape responsible for but she doubted he would take her warning for what it was. Not when there was the ‘glory’ of the Death Eater’s waiting for him, a temptation he hadn’t even been able to resist as an adult. 

As they stood glaring at each other, both waiting for the other to lash out Kingsley rounded the corner, catching their obviously heated argument. Confusion crossed his features as he took in the sight, and Hermione felt dread building up in her stomach. 

She hadn’t said more than a few cursory words to Kingsley since the beginning of term. She felt guilty about it, yet another thing making her tense, but she just didn’t know how to deal with the situation. Instead, hiding behind the doors of Ravenclaw Tower or Pandora and Remus’ company. 

This wasn’t how she wanted their first real conversation in weeks to go at all. His face was questioning as he took the two of them in, and Hermione added another item to the list of things she could never tell him. 

Mercifully, Kingsley didn’t try and insert himself into the argument. Knowing she wouldn’t have appreciated it. Instead, he questioned softly, “Hermione?”

As much as she had been avoiding him, Hermione smiled welcomingly while responding with an equally quiet, “Kingsley.” 

She had missed him, of course. The quiet companionship as they studied together. His reassuring presence at her side, their late-night or early-morning activities, and so she took the out when she saw it. 

Muttering a goodbye to Snape, he didn’t protest the dismissal. There was nothing he could have done in front of the Head Boy, and they both knew Kingsley knew nothing of what had happened. 

Leaving the boy to sulk, Hermione led Kingsley through the aisles to their table for what she prayed wouldn’t turn into an argument but knew almost inevitably would. For once, he sat opposite her rather than in his familiar position at her side. The distance between them palpable.

“How was your Christmas?” He started, and she was shocked he didn’t immediately jump into the interrogation she knew was coming. Although, the question did hold a certain bitterness that was new. 

“Okay. Quiet to be honest. What about you?” Her answer was hesitant, unsure of what he was looking for.

“Fine,” he agreed, “The castle was pretty much empty so quiet too, I guess. I got a lot of work done.”

“Good! Good,” she rushed to agree, still nervous to break the delicate peace surrounding them. She knew as soon as he asked more personal questions she would clam up immediately. 

“And your term?” Kingsley asked, “Not like I’ve actually seen you long enough to know.”

Hermione cast her gaze down to the tabletop in shame. “I’m sorry,” she sighed, “I’ve just been super busy. Didn’t get as much class work done over the holiday as I hoped.”

It was a lie, and they both knew it. 

Kingsley scoffed at her in disbelief, “Seriously, you expect me to believe Hermione Lupin, who studied herself into the Hospital Wing over OWLS but who also reads Mastery level works in her free time didn’t have everything done before the holidays. It wasn’t as if you had much else going on,” he replied, subtly referencing the weeks before the holidays she had also drawn away from him. “Something’s clearly up with you, Hermione, just let me help.”

“You can’t,” she confessed, apologetic, “I told you, it was Remus’ business.”

“Yeah, and I accepted that, but he’s been fine since you got back and I’ve still seen nothing of you.”

He was right. As hesitant as the Marauder’s rebuilt friendship was to those who truly knew them, from the outside it looked like nothing had ever happened. Likely the reason Snape was mad enough to start arguing with her. 

“Really, everything’s fine now,” She tried to reassure him, but Kinglsey didn’t buy it.

“Yeah? Then what was that with Snape?”

“Nothing. You know the boys and he don’t get along. He just has difficulty separating me from Remus sometimes. I think he was looking for a fight more than anything.” As she spoke Hermione, somehow, felt even more exhausted than before. The weeks of avoiding him had weighed heavily on her, and now they were talking, she wanted nothing more than the comfort of his arms around her, tight and reassuring. Shielding her from all her other worries the way they had after the attack. 

She didn’t want the argument to continue and knew she couldn’t tell him everything but hoped giving him a few grains of truth was enough to make up for her distance even temporarily. 

“I can’t tell you very much,” she said quietly. “I wasn’t lying when I said it was Remus' business, but it was a more emotional Christmas than I probably could have done with. I haven’t meant to be distant. I’m just still processing.”

None of it was a lie, and yet she was still keeping so much from him Hermione thought it may as well have been. She could only hope it was enough to repair some of the damage of the last month, not that she had really told him anything. 

While he didn’t seem wholly convinced Kinglsey let out a large sigh and with it the tension dissipated from both of them. 

“Fine. I won’t pry, but if you need something …” he trailed off, but his meaning was clear. All may not be completely forgiven, but it was something, and the meeting wasn’t as dismal as Hermione had feared. 

“I know. If you can help, I’ll ask,” she smiled reassuringly, something inside her stinging with the lie.

* * *

The highland air was frigid, but Regulus refused to cast a warming charm. Something about the cold felt cleansing, like the biting wind off the Black Lake could remove the taint from the mark on his arm. So he sat, shivering, on the hidden bank as if it could help atone for his sins. 

He knew it couldn’t. The weeks after receiving the mark had been eye-opening. The mark itself was a sensation he could barely explain; his hairs constantly standing on end like someone was watching him. Being called was an even more unnerving experience. A burning pain that radiated through his nerves and a feeling of sudden fear, like the being he’d felt watching him had finally emerged from the darkness and was a truly terrifying creature. 

He supposed that much was true, at least. The man whose mark had been burned to his very core was an even more disturbing creature than he could have imagined. That initial wrongness Regulus had felt in his presence having only grown more pronounced after he was initiated into the Death Eater’s.. 

Regulus knew he had got off easily compared to most of the Dark Lord’s ranks. Many of the older, more dedicated followers expressing their disbelief at his easy acceptance. The Christmas holidays had been enlightening in that respect. Had he been anyone else the process of earning the mark would have required far more dedication on his part. 

Dolohov had gleefully told him how he had earnt Voldemort’s favour. Recounting tales of hunting down werewolves to experiment with new spells on. Claiming ‘ _the filthy half-breeds were far more robust than mudbloods_ ’ and _‘were only good for experimenting on._ ’

He had earnt the mark for a spell that shot purple flames out of the caster’s wand. They burnt the victim without fire, slowly liquifying their skin, bones and organs while they writhed in agony, conscious the whole time. 

The Dark Lord seemed to appreciate the viciousness of the spell, but when Regulus had been granted the opportunity to witness its use, he had emptied his stomach as soon as he returned home. Unable to free himself from the pain in the unknown muggle girl’s eyes as he had done nothing to stop her suffering, and generally sickened by its effects. 

Even that paled in comparison to the tales he had heard of the usual initiation ceremony. How most of the followers had to prove their loyalty to the cause by casting whichever spells the Dark Lord directed upon whomever he dictated.

Bellatrix had done so gladly, casting _crucio_ after _crucio_ on her husband to the point Rodolphus still had tremors to this day. The nerve damage was so severe they would likely never subside and the damage done to his mind was still obvious too. 

Regulus doubted it had been a hardship for Bellatrix. She was clearly devoted beyond all reason to _her Master_. It was the stories of Lucius’ initiation that horrified him. While Bellatrix cared little for her husband, everyone knew it had been a political match, the same could not be said for Lucius and Narcissa. 

His cousin’s marriage had been a love match, and it was clear to anyone who witnessed their doting attentions, and the way affection shone out of both their eyes. It was only fortunate their parents had been all too willing to arrange a marriage between two _pure_ families or Regulus suspected there would have been a repeat of the Andromeda situation. 

As much as the idea of disobeying her parents would have upset Narcissa, Regulus knew she would have done it in a heartbeat were it the only way for her and Lucius to remain together. 

It was what made the stories of Lucius’ initiation ceremony all the more horrific. For his ceremony, Narcissa too had been brought before the Dark Lord. Her new husband had been forced to place her under the Imperius and have her ‘service’ any of Voldemort’s followers who desired the use of his wife. 

The Dark Lord had to be sure no one in his ranks considered little things such as wives more highly than himself after all. But from what Regulus knew, it would have happened no matter what. The only difference being that Lucius likely would not have been alive to cast the Imperius had he refused. 

Still, it had irreparably damaged his cousin's marriage and explained her pale, withdrawn demeanour the few times he had seen her since their wedding. Lucius too suffered from the knowledge of what he had done. The two of them awkward around each other in a way they had never been before as they attempted to work through the situation they had been forced into. 

Tales of the event were still passed between followers though. And suggestions had even been made to a pained Lucius that he should bring his wife to the _revels_ they promised Regulus would be invited to once he left Hogwarts. Purebloods ever strange in their willingness to have a sixteen-year-old watch a murder and listen to stories of their obscenities but not attend the ‘parties’ where they continued with such horrors. 

Not that Regulus wanted to go. 

In fact, he prayed he never had to. But, Regulus knew the time would come when he had to participate in whichever twisted game Voldemort or one of his other followers came up with. Especially considering he had escaped suffering his own ceremony. 

Not that the pain of receiving the mark hadn’t made him ill for days after but he’d never had to injure his loved ones in the same way all the other’s had. Having been accepted based solely on his family’s name and reputation with promises of tasks to come. 

Many of the older followers had sneered at his inclusion. Abraxas Malfoy and Thaddeus Nott merely casting their disapproving gaze over his form before returning to their conversation. Others had tried to encourage him with stories of the glory to be found in their ranks. And then there was Lucius, who still had a haunted look in his eye months after. The event weighing even heavier on him that it had Regulus when he learnt what his cousin had been put through. 

The same cousin who had always been kind to him. Gentle Narcissa, who had cooed over small animals and smiled softly at babies with hope in her eyes. All of it shattered now. Leaving this strange, pale, imitation of her. 

Thoughts of Lucius’ initiation filled Regulus with rage and sadness at the same time, but he knew there was nothing he could do for the couple. Apart from hope the love they held for each other was enough they could survive it. 

Still, as haunted as Lucius looked, he had taken the time to pour Regulus his first firewhisky, and given him a reassuring pat to the shoulder as he processed watching the muggle girl struggle in pain on the Nott’s ballroom floor.

Part of him wished he could run to Sirius in the way he had when they were younger. His older brother was always willing to take the blow to protect him from their mother’s wrath and their father’s disinterest. 

He had been dismayed by Sirius’ sorting when he was younger, but he understood it more now. Sirius was never going to be the perfect Black heir their parents wanted and would have rather died than participate in any of what Regulus had witnessed. 

Gryffindor had given him a way out. Besides, while Regulus knew Sirius had Slytherin traits, they were far outweighed by his Gryffindor ones so there was never really another option. 

To a ten-year-old Regulus though, Sirius’s sorting had felt like a betrayal, and he reacted accordingly. Over the years, as Sirius had maintained his protector status, at least while at home, he had come to understand why it happened, but at that point, the damage had been done. 

Sirius’ brashness never gave him the opportunity to seek forgiveness and then last Christmas, Sirius had abandoned him all over again. Leaving him to the mercy of their parents and the Dark Lord. Not that he knew Regulus didn’t want any part of it. 

He had never been like Sirius; fascinated by the Muggle world and desperate to learn more about it. It wasn’t that he considered them lesser; he just had no interest in them and wasn’t willing to risk the wrath of their parents to explore _traitorous_ topics. 

Sirius had never understood that though, so determined to defy them, he openly flaunted his fascination. Befriending Muggleborns and Blood-traitors alike, relishing the small parts of Muggle culture he could access. 

It was something they had fought about constantly. Sirius failed to understand that Regulus’s lack of desire to anger their parents didn’t mean he subscribed to their views. He didn’t think Muggleborns stole magic, an impossibility if you thought about it. Regulus just felt they would benefit from being better educated about the world they were entering. 

It was different, after all. Different governments, and values, and practices. But he had never brought into the other ideas about Muggleborns, that they were dirty or whatever else their parents had told him. He just hadn’t known any better until as a first-year an older Ted Tonks had informed him quite how rude the word _Mudblood_ was. He knew Sirius had had a similar experience, as much as he liked to claim he’d always known better.

Either way, Sirius’ low opinion of him meant Regulus couldn’t seek him out for help. Sirius wouldn’t even begin to hear him out, and once he confessed to taking the mark that he had fought so hard against Regulus knew he would be dismissed completely. 

So he had no other options but to contemplate the dark future lying ahead of him. One filled with the Dark Lord’s wishes and the promise of a haunted expression like Lucius Malfoy’s. 

Regulus felt a figure come and sit on the frozen ground next to him as he was contemplating it. He was shocked anyone had found him so far from the castle. Especially during winter when few ventured away from the warmth of their common rooms. 

Turning to face them, he was surprised to discover it was Pandora. The Ravenclaw had appeared halfway through the last term, expressing the desire to learn more about her new cousin. Not that they were really related, he had accepted her presence as she seemed too determined for him to deny it. 

Looking at her now Regulus couldn’t tell if she knew of the suffering her brother and his wife had endured, her face impassive. But he still felt strangely reassured by her presence. By the fact someone had bothered to seek him out following the weeks he had drawn away from everyone, terrified someone would discover the mark. 

For a while, neither of them spoke. Enjoying their time watching the pinky sky as the sun set over the lake, colours dulled by the cold but beautiful all the same. When the final rays started dipping below the horizon, Pandora started, 

“Christmas was hard.” Regulus didn’t know if she meant for her or him but nodded nonetheless. “We can’t always help the things we are forced into.” She continued, deadly serious for the first time he had known her and Regulus found himself entranced by her words. 

“There will always be people who can help you though, and they won’t care what you’ve done to survive, only what you’ll do to get out of it.” He processed her words but didn’t understand them, not knowing how anyone could help him out of the situation he had found himself in. 

“Regulus,” she continued anyway, and he turned to face her. Taken back by the haze of her eyes but the absolute clarity in her voice. “You will discover a truth so horrible it will feel as if there is only one, _permanent_ , way out.” He went cold at her words, mind spinning desperately as he tried to understand what she was telling him. “ You must remember that’s not the case. There is _always_ another way, and there will always be someone you can trust to help. _I promise_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Injury, Torture, Sexual Assault
> 
> This chapter references Sexual Assult, there are no details and there never will be but it is a part of the chapter that you can't really skip. I will always but trigger warnings in any chapter that discusses it but I know this is a senstive topic for a lot of people and I want to respect that.


	18. A Tradition

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy sunday!!  
> i'm so glad you guys liked the last chapter even if it was kinda dark. this ones much less so - i promise.  
> anyway - tysm for the lovely comments 🥰  
> pinterest : https://pin.it/1YCuIQy
> 
> TW in end notes

**February 1977**

Lily didn’t notice him at first. Too absorbed by the book she was reading to catch him climb out of the portrait hole and join her in the quiet corridor. Coming closer, he called out her name, and she jumped in surprise. 

“James!” She gasped, hitting him with her book in reprimand. 

He chuckled at her reaction, and she mockingly glared at him for a brief second before questioning him, exasperated, “What are you doing here?” 

“Well, I was supposed to tell you Remus and Hermione have had to go home. Something about an Aunt that’s sick?” It wasn’t true, of course. The two of them were actually holed up in the Hospital Wing. Remus was enjoying the indulgent attentions of Madam Pomfrey, who was always happy to see her favourite patient, even if it was under less than desirable circumstances. Meanwhile, Hermione had taken to shadowing the Matron despite the fact they were supposed to be hidden from prying eyes. “But if you just want to stand out here all evening then I’ll leave you to it.”

Lily looked pensive at his words and breathed out a quiet, “Oh, I should have known.”

It confused James even more than her lack of reaction to his teasing. 

“What? They only left at lunch. You couldn’t have known. It does mean you’re without a partner for rounds though.” He grinned at the last part. 

“Ahh, fuck.” Lily swore as she realised her predicament. It was always something that had amused James, her inclination towards profanity, so contrasting with the innocent school girl facade she liked to show the world. “And it’s too late to find anyone else.”

Before she could worry herself any further, he cut in again, “Luckily for you, I have volunteered to cover, and McGonagall agreed. Said she’d talk to Shacklebolt and Fawley too. ”

“She did?” Lily sounded disbelieving, and James didn’t blame her. The only other time he had covered Remus’ prefect duties had been the day of the Hogsmeade attack. Otherwise, James wasn’t exactly known for his prefectly behaviour, far more familiar with the other side of rule-breaking. 

James knew McGonagall never usually would have agreed to the switch, but they had both watched Remus’ stress over finding someone to cover his duties whenever they fell around the full moon, so she had readily agreed to it when James made the suggestion. He regretted he hadn’t thought of it before, though he doubted Lily would have accepted his presence prior to reconciling, far more likely to have hexed him for interfering in her duties. 

Still, he was mainly relieved Remus’ turn for rounds had fallen the night before the full moon rather than of it. None of them had mentioned it, but they were all anxious about how the full moon would go. It was the first one they would be spending together since The Incident and James had no idea how Moony would react to the three of them. Unsure if leftover agitation would make him more temperamental than usual, or if any hidden resentments would make themselves apparent in their more primal forms. 

He was at least free to cover Remus’ duties. Even if Sirius had released his first genuine laugh in months hearing James would be taking on the role of prefect temporarily and promised to make rounds interesting for him.

“Of course, she agreed. She loves me!”

“Really?” Lily sounded doubtful. 

“Well, she loves Remus, so was happy to agree to the switch for him.” 

Lily nodded in agreement but looked distracted as if she were weighing up the options before her. Glancing back, she addressed him, pointing her finger to emphasise her point, “It’s not like Hogsmeade. You actually have to take points and give detentions if you catch people out of bed.” 

“Trust me,” he laughed, “I am well aware of the procedure for being caught out of bed.” 

Rounds passed quietly, only finding a couple of first years out of bed, who claimed they were lost despite having been at the school for months. At least until they came across Sirius and Marlene in a dark classroom on the fourth floor. They heard the breathy moans before they reached it and exchanged an exasperated glance. 

James took the lead in interrupting the amorous couple and threw open the door. Doing so, they were assaulted by the shining white of Sirius’ arse as he held Marlene up against the wall. Thankfully, the rest of them was covered, but it didn’t stop James from crying out, 

“Fucking hell, Padfoot. _Really!?”_

The couple broke apart laughing, clearly not involved in the activities they had been implying. Instead, enjoying the shocked expression on Lily’s face as she frantically spun away from the sight, and James’ frustrated amusement. 

“Told you I’d make rounds interesting for you.” Sirius drawled, and Lily’s eyes snapped to his face from where they had been pointedly avoiding him, making James laugh even as she rolled her eyes at the pair. 

Sighing, she addressed the couple, “10 points from you each. Now back to the common room, and no detours Black.” 

Marlene and Sirius laughed as they escaped, both amused by the chaos they had brought on their evening. James turned back to Lily; whose cheeks were still stained pink even in the low light given off by their wands. 

“A prank?” She questioned.

“Yup, Padfoot almost pissed himself laughing when I told him I’d be covering for Remus. Promised to make my evening interesting too, though I didn’t imagine it would be in quite that fashion. I do wonder how he got Marlene in on it.”

Lily laughed softly before answering, “Marlene lives for any excuse to try and horrify me. She was probably the one who encouraged Sirius to get his trousers down in the first place.” 

Eyes meeting, they both laughed at their friends' antics. Forcing herself to take a few deep, calming breaths, Lily looked back at James, a grin still spread across her face, before gesturing towards the dark hallway, “Come on, we’re not done yet.”

As they continued their rounds, Lily glanced at him surreptitiously, eventually summoning her courage to ask whatever was bothering her. 

“Things are better with you and Black then?” It was quiet, like she was afraid he would consider it too intrusive. 

James, though, was only happy she cared enough to ask, and instead looked back at her before answering, “Yeah, I guess so. It’s kind of weird honestly. Like we’ve all just agreed to move on, but none of us really know how so we’re just pretending as best we can.”

It had surprised James at first, how willing he was to be honest with her even as he kept the majority of their secrets to himself. But then he thought about how much he wanted to make things work with Lily, even if it was only friendship and how she had never asked more than he was comfortable telling.

It had reassured him in some way, that whatever relationship they had would be built on more than his desire for her. That if, by some miracle, Lily were to decide she wanted a romantic relationship with him it would be based on a more personal understanding of each other rather than solely his attraction. Not that James thought it was likely to change anytime soon, Lily only slowly accepting his presence in her life outside of ‘irritating school mate.’

“Maybe it is the best you can do for now,” she said quietly, “Maybe it’s just a case of pretending like everything’s okay and then one day it really will be.”

The rest of their rounds passed relatively quietly, the only real disturbance coming from themselves. James had changed the subject to the new theory McGonagall had introduced in Transfiguration. He purposefully distorted his explanation and Lily not realising as much had grown increasingly heated in response to his teasing. 

As exasperated as she sounded though, James could also tell she was enjoying their time together, and he didn’t want it to stop with the end of their rounds so started guiding her towards the kitchens. 

“James, where are we going? Rounds are over.” 

“I know,” he agreed, “We memorised the prefect rounds a long time ago.” 

She gave him an unimpressed look and James grinned mischievously back at her. “Besides, it only got easier to learn them once they made Remus prefect, so that’s on McGonagall really.” 

Lily let out a disbelieving laugh at his cheek before replying, “Maybe, but we are done for the night, so where are you taking me.”

“You haven’t figured it out yet?”

She shook her head. 

“Hot chocolate! It’s practically a tradition at this point.”

“We’re supposed to go straight back to our common room.”

“Oh, come on, Evans,” James taunted, “Who's going to catch us?”

“Fine. But only because hot chocolate really does sound good right now.”

* * *

The uncomfortable tension that had taken such a prominent role in their relationship remained even after their conversation. Hermione had hoped it would dissipate with time but part of her knew it had been wishful thinking. They both knew she was keeping secrets and while Kingsley, as promised, didn’t pry, the fact she couldn’t give him even the smallest inclination of what they were weighed heavily on them both. 

They were at least in a better place than they had been at the start of term. Hermione’s weeks of anxiety had passed, and she stopped avoiding him. Instead, embracing his presence at her table while she hunted for more information about the Riddles and the Gaunts. Not that Kingsley even knew that much. 

Still, as much progress as they made in repairing the rift, their relationship was soon tested again. The Auror program was notoriously difficult to get into, and gaining early acceptance was an even more impressive feat. His position would still be reliant on getting the required NEWTS but completing the rest of the trials as a seventh year would go a long way towards establishing Kingsley’s desired career.

As such, they saw little of each other over the weeks after their _discussion_. Kingsley’s frantic studying and preparations meant they only briefly saw each other, even missing one of the term’s few Hogsmeade trips. Hermione understood his concerns, knowing she likely would have done the same in his place, even though she didn’t share them. Kingsley had been one of the best Aurors she had ever met, so she was happy to provide reassurances after long days of testing. 

Unfortunately, between his multitude of responsibilities as Head Boy and tests for the program, Hermione had few opportunities to provide such reassurances. Their time together was relegated to that familiar table in the library. Hunched over their books, rather than in the comfort of the head dorms. 

The day Kingsley was finally done, he fell into the seat next to her exhausted. Hermione didn’t say anything, waiting for him to speak and giving him the opportunity to relish the silence after the long day she knew he’d had.

The last day of the program was aptitude testing. They put the applicants through all manner of stressful situations to see how they coped, and it was purposefully put at the end of the other trials to ensure they were so exhausted there was no way to mask their reactions.

She had no doubt he had excelled. Thinking back to an older Kingsley and his unshakeable calmness, even on the back of a thestral being fired at by Death Eaters and Voldemort himself that Kingsley hadn’t flinched. He had maintained his steady demeanour in a way that reassured Hermione and allowed her to continue defending them despite her fear of flying.

It wasn’t just those memories that reassured her though. Her Kingsley, as she had come to think of him in the privacy of her mind, had shown he was equally unflappable during the Hogsmeade attack. Even without the other’s years of experience. Confidently directing students back towards the castle and defending younger years at her side. So, Hermione was certain of his acceptance even if Kingsley hadn’t had such a positive outlook as he pushed through the weeks of testing.

It was over now, though. Leaving him exhausted but hopeful, as he slumped over in the seat next to her. She left him to enjoy the silence, but he soon broke it, muttering a disbelieving, “It’s over.”

She hummed in agreement, giving him time to find the words to express himself eloquently, “I did it. Or I made it through the program at least.” 

As he said it, he ran his hands over his face, forearms exposed where his sleeves had been rolled up. Hermione found herself tracing them with her eyes, entranced by his wide palms, long fingers, and the memory of things they had done to her. 

“Yes, and I’m sure you did brilliantly.” She smirked, as wicked ideas formed in her head, ”In fact, I think we should celebrate.”

“Celebrate?” he questioned, and Hermione felt her desire ignite further at the sight of him in the flickering candlelight of the library. As uncomfortable as things still were between them, his unkempt appearance was doing a lot to make her forget it; his tie missing, the top buttons of his shirt were undone and hinting at the smooth panes of his chest.

“Um-hm,” She hummed. It had been weeks since they touched each other, before Christmas even, and she had missed him. The feel of his skin under her fingertips, the taste of his lips on hers and the sensations he never failed to unlock in her.

Kingsley still looked confused by her suggestion though, so she shifted closer to him. Placing a gentle hand on his knee, her fingers drew circles through his trousers, and she looked up at him through her eyelashes to make her point clear. Understanding crossed over his face, and his breath hitched as she trailed her hand further up his leg.

Her fingers moved ever higher, and he rose sharply out of the chair. For a moment, Hermione panicked, worried she had pushed too far considering the awkward state of their relationship, but then Kingsley cast a quick _Accio_ before she could contemplate the thoughts any further.

Quickly gathering her belongings, he shoved them all in her bag. Usually, Hermione would have protested such an action, she had a particular way that she preferred to store her things, but in that moment she didn’t care. Desire making her desperate in ways that made things like the proper upkeep of books seem unimportant.

Slinging her bag over his shoulder, he took her hand and Kingsley pulled her close to him. Wrapping an arm around her waist, the two of them stumbled out of the library, trying not to draw the attention of Madam Pince.

It was far more brazen than they had ever dared be in public before. The weeks apart made them touch each other greedily, and he pressed her up against the wall as they neared the Heads dorms, neither caring how reckless they were being. 

His weight holding her up against the corridor, he finally kissed her. Lips frantic against hers it quickly deepened, his tongue slipping into her mouth, tasting her, groaning quietly as they reacquainted themselves with each other. Sliding his legs between hers, Hermione keened as his strong thigh pressed against her core, grinding against it eagerly. 

Still, they both needed more. Her lips left his, trailing light kisses across his cheekbone, each one an apology for her distance, before she reached his neck and the sensitive spot behind his ear that made his knees buckle and him slump against her. 

Smiling against his neck, she continued to leave open-mouthed kisses on it, nibbling and marking the skin, wanting him to feel her even hours later when they retreated to their own beds. He panted in her ear as she sucked more marks on to him, and realised she wanted to hear more of those too; wanted to draw each shaky exhale from him.

She knew they should move to the Heads dorms and enjoy the privacy they provided, but she wouldn’t last the walk. Too desperate to hear him groan and feel him lose control so instead pushed him gently towards one of the nearby alcoves.

Kingsley looked faintly shocked by her boldness but embraced it happily. Pulling her back to him once she cast a silencing spell. Praying nobody would look close enough to find them, but secretly thrilled by the risk of it too.

In the darkness, their kisses remained frantic, as they tried to make up for lost time. He lifted her easily into his arms and pressed her back against the wall to steady them. Lessening their distance as he bit gently on her bottom lip and ran his hands under her shirt. Feeling her soft skin, his fingers explored the peaks that had gone untouched for so long. Her nipples hardened as he cupped her breasts and rubbed his thumbs against them. Toying with the buds in a way that made Hermione chase his touch, pressing her chest outwards towards him, greedy for more. 

Momentarily, she was distracted, breathing heavily against his neck, and dropping small kisses on the bruised skin between her gasps. With her legs wrapped around him, their cores pressed against each other and she could feel his cock against her damp knickers. A tantalising pressure, they rolled their hips searching for friction as she whimpered quietly. He started to trail his hand up her thigh making her clench in anticipation, but the action reminded Hermione of her other desires.

Pressing a quick kiss against his lips, she shook her head. Unwrapping her legs, she slid down the wall and spun them. Before he could think any further on her actions, she kissed him again. Lips hot against his, both struggling for breath but unable to stop their attentions.

Trailing yet more kisses down his neck, her hands went to his buckle. Undoing it quickly, she rubbed him through his trousers and Kingsley groaned deeply. Pressing towards her hand as she palmed the hard length before freeing it. 

Running her thumb over its weeping head, Kingsley shuddered as he leant back, his breath coming out unevenly. Giving him a few quick strokes, Hermione sank to her knees, and Kingsley’s eyes widened.

They had both enjoyed the other’s hands, but it was the first time either of them had proposed using their mouths on the other. Glancing up at him, Hermione tilted her head in question, and Kingsley nodded minutely in agreement. Too overcome by the image of her kneeling before him, looking perfectly innocent were it not for her slightly dishevelled appearance and the heat in her eyes, to do anything else.

Taking him back in her hand, she gave his cock a few firm strokes but soon brought her lips to the tip. Circling it with her tongue, her name fell from his lips like a curse, and his hand brushed over her cheekbone as it tangled in her hair while she took him in her mouth for the first time.

Humming around him lightly, Hermione wasn't sure what to do but enjoyed the weight of him against her tongue, pressing her thighs together as she tried to relieve some of the tension between her legs. The look of him, slumped against the wall, eyes closed in pleasure, and the feel of his fingers tight in her hair, only served to increase it though.

She ran her tongue down the underside of his cock, and he cursed again, “Fuck!”

She couldn’t get him entirely in her mouth, not yet, but used her hands to make up the difference, stroking and teasing, all while Kingsley groaned and panted with increasing urgency.

The sound of them went straight to her centre, and Hermione could feel her wetness, longing to be touched, but she also _needed_ to make Kingsley come. Needed to feel him fully lose himself, a celebration and an apology, and something to draw them back together, so she ignored her pulsing core and enthusiastically renewed her attentions.

She took ever more of him into her mouth, gagging occasionally at his length but determined to push him over that ledge. He had pulled her hair away from her face at some point, watching as she bobbed and sucked and stroked in a way that made her ache and she moaned under his heavy gaze causing him to pant even harder.

She could tell he was drawing close, his breathing shaky and muscles tightening when he pulled her off his cock.

“Where?” he rasped, “Where do you want me to finish.”

Hermione hadn’t thought that far ahead when she’d taken him in her mouth—thinking only of the sound of his groaning, her desire, and her desperation to close some of the distance between them. Faced with the options now, she knew she had already made her decision.

He could come anywhere she chose, and they would simply vanish it, but something in her wanted to finish it. She wanted to feel him fall apart in her mouth and so she looked up at him and licked lightly at his tip before drawing the rest of his length back into the wet heat of her mouth. 

His eyes widened, and he let out a jagged breath. This time being the one to look down at her questioning, checking this was truly her choice, and Hermione hummed in agreement which only made him groan again.

Focusing her attention back on his head, stroking the rest of him with practised motions, his whole body tensed and she felt him shoot into her mouth. She swallowed quickly, but the salty taste remained, a reminder of what she’d just done that made her clench around nothing, throbbing with need.

Smiling up at him hesitantly, she licked the final drops off her lips and Kingsley breathed out “Fuck, you’re beautiful,” pulling her up into his arms. Standing, Hermione’s legs shook, knees sore from kneeling on the cold stone floor, but the dull ache only heightened her desire as he held her against him. 

Still wrapped in his arms, Kingsley whispered in her ear, “Heads Dorms, right now, and I’ll return the favour.”

She shook her head, a lovely idea but not one she was interested in at that moment. Still enjoying the risk of the alcove and so desperate to finish she couldn’t bear leaving it. Instead, she brought his hand to her knickers, pushing them aside and trailing his fingers through her slick folds. Showing him how much she needed him and how much she had enjoyed feeling him come undone in her mouth—the contact making her shudder and collapse even further into his arms.

“No,” she whispered, “I’d rather have your hands here.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Explict Sexual Content


	19. A Familiar Scent

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy sunday!!  
> hope y'all are well - this was honestly one of my favourite chapters i've written so far and i've been waiting (mostly impatiently) weeks to post it so im SUPER excited and hopefully you guys enjoy it too.  
> pinterest: https://pin.it/6xmdknT

**February 1977**

Slughorn seemed unusually jovial as he entered the classroom, an impressive feat for a man renowned for his bumbling optimism. Greeting the class cheerfully, he waved his wand and the word  _ Amortentia _ appeared behind him on the board. 

Chuckling to himself, he addressed the class, “I felt it was only appropriate we celebrate Valentine’s Day by brewing this particular potion. Now, who can tell me more about it?”

Beside him, James felt Lily shift in her seat as she threw her hand in the air. It wasn’t quite with the enthusiasm of their younger years, but it was undoubtedly with more vigour than James himself had ever answered a question. 

Casting his eyes around the classroom, Slughorn smiled as they fell on his favourite pupil, “Miss Evans! Of course, I should have expected as much. Please tell us what you know about Amortentia.”

Beaming slightly at the praise, Lily spoke, “It’s a love potion, Sir. Supposedly the most powerful in the world. It’s supposed to smell different to each person depending on what attracts them.”

“Excellent, my girl. Excellent! 10 points to Gryffindor. Now, can anyone else expand on Miss Evans’ knowledge?”

Gesturing for Snape to continue, his dark voice cut through the quiet of the classroom, “It doesn’t actually make the recipient fall in love, of course, Professor. No potion could, instead it creates the illusion of it. Perhaps something we should all look out for, plenty of people  _ obsessed _ with those they have no reason to be.”

Behind him, James could hear Sirius whisper to Moony, “Too bad, not even a love potion could get old Snivillius a date.” 

Remus didn’t reply, though the muffled grunt suggested he’d elbowed Sirius to get him to shut up. Whether because he disapproved of the comment or because of the distraction from the lesson James didn’t know but was only thankful that Lily hadn’t seemed to have heard him. 

Ignoring Snape’s blatant dig at the Marauders, Slughorn agreed with him. Awarding points and continuing with the lesson rather than let him expand any further on his comments, “Now since it is the day of love I thought it was only fitting you all try your hand at brewing it. However, I must stress, if I see anyone trying to sneak some out, the consequences will be most severe. It’s a controlled substance, after all.”

With his dire warning complete, Slughorn freed the class to start their attempts. James headed towards the storeroom without prompting to begin collecting their ingredients. Already familiar with the system he and Lily had fallen into over the months of brewing together. Him collecting and preparing ingredients, her readying their station and controlling the actual brewing. 

It was an efficient system that had worked well for them throughout the term, giving them the freedom to discuss other things even while brewing a somewhat volatile potion such as Amortentia. Glancing up from where he was crushing the Ashwinder eggs, James took in Lily’s pale skin, flushed faintly from the heat of the cauldron and the soft angles of her face, exposed by the way she pulled her hair back to avoid it getting in the way while brewing. 

It was a look he was familiar with having spent the whole year partnered with her, but he still found himself slightly stunned by the pinky-white skin visible above her school shirt, and the look of concentration on her face as she focused on the potion. Dragging his eyes away before he could get himself in trouble, James heard the teasing question leave his lips before he could stop it. 

“Do you have plans for Valentine’s then?”

Six months ago she would have hexed him just for mentioning the holiday around her, but now she glanced up from the cauldron and scoffed lightly. “You asking?”

As joking as her tone was James still rushed to disagree, “Of course not, no asking you out remember. Honestly, Evans, can’t a man ask you a question without any ulterior motives.” 

“In my experience with you—no. Not that it would make a difference anyway, it’s Slug Club tonight.” 

“Ahhh yes. The illusive Slug Club. I can’t say I’ve ever been extended an invitation.”

“Well, that’s not exactly surprising. Remind me, how many classes did it take you to melt a cauldron?” Her tone was teasing, and James was thrilled she was playing along so well.

“Three, but I don’t think it counts if Padfoot and I did it to ensure Sluggy’s expectations for us remained low. And I’m still here, aren’t I?”

Laughing, she responded, “True, but I don’t think he’s ever forgotten it. Probably the first time someone’s scalded themselves with burn paste too.” 

“We live to impress.” James grinned back at her. 

Before she got a chance to reply, though, they were distracted by stirring and slicing through a particularly involved part of the potion. Spending the rest of the brewing time in silence apart from occasionally exchanging directions. 

Eventually, their potion started emitting little spirals of steam, and Slughorn excitedly made his way across the classroom to check on them. Turning immediately towards Lily, who he knew was where the real talent lay, 

“Ahh Miss Evans, it looks like a perfect brew. The mother-of-pearl sheen, the spiralling steam, it’s visually perfect. But of course, the true test of Amortentia comes from the scent. So tell me, my girl, what does it smell like to you?”

Even from a distance, James’ senses were overcome by the familiar floral scent of the flowers his mother kept around the manor. He couldn’t have identified them if he were offered the quidditch cup in payment but smelling them now he recognised it immediately. A scent that just felt like  _ home _ , reminding him of his parents and long summers spent with his friends. 

Beyond that, however, there were two scents he recognised from somewhere much closer. The comforting smell of old books that he had come to associate with Lily after so many hours spent together in the library and then the honeyed almond scent he knew was her body lotion. 

He only knew as much after one mortifying moment in December, when overcome by exhaustion she had caught him gently sniffing at her; animagus senses making him even more sensitive to the soft scent that came off her skin than usual. At first, she was bewildered by his actions, and James had rushed to explain he was simply trying to figure out what it was, rather than it being some strange facet of his previous obsession with her. 

As confused as she had seemed by his explanation, Lily, mercifully, hadn’t run screaming. Instead, confessing to using a honey and almond body lotion on the understanding he would stop his bizarre behaviour  _ immediately _ . Explaining she refused to do something so cliche as perfume herself with her namesake and going so far as to avoid florals all together. 

It had been a strange conversation, and one they had both pushed to the back of their minds until now when James could smell that same subtly sweet scent emanating from the potion in front of him. 

He could feel his face morph into a dopey smile at the intoxicating scent and forced himself to draw further away from the cauldron. Focusing back on Lily as she answered Slughorn’s question. 

“Something citrusy, Sir, like my mother’s perfume and home. Then there’s something woodsy, like the forest after it rains?” It sounded questioning like she wasn’t entirely sure how to explain it, but she continued on nonetheless, “And hot chocolate.”

The confusion grew even more apparent as she reached the final scent, and once she had identified it, she flushed a brilliant red and backed away from the cauldron rapidly. Eyes widening in shock. 

Chuckling at her reaction, Slughorn replied, “Excellent, of course, Miss Evans. 20 more points to Gryffindor and I trust I’ll see you at my little gathering tonight?”

Still dazed by the potion Lily’s reply was more hesitant than usual, “Of course, Sir, I wouldn’t miss it.” 

Even as she said it though her tone was distracted, shock still evident on her face. 

* * *

With the Hogsmeade attack and the Incident with her brother passed, Hermione found the only significant cause of stress in her life was the ever-present tension with Kingsley. She had hoped renewing their physical relationship would have helped remove some of the distance between them, but neither had initiated any more encounters without the excitement of finishing the Auror program to distract them from their tentativeness around each other. 

Unable to bury their issues in the physical aspects of their relationship, very little had changed between them, and Hermione knew it was her fault.  She was the one keeping secrets, and while Kingsley had expressed his frustration with her, he had also stopped inquiring any further. Not even asking questions when she had disappeared with Remus over the last full moon.

Part of her wondered how long they could really last with her unwilling to betray even Remus’ secret to him. Not that she considered her brother’s condition any less important than her others; the idea of ever having to betray it was something that haunted her nightmares, only that people at least knew about Remus’ lycanthropy. Hermione had other secrets no one else knew, and she would likely never share. 

Another part of her though dreaded the thought of things ending. As awkward it had been between her and Kingsley recently, it didn’t undo the time before. When she had revelled in his presence and how much she had relied on him after the attack, even without him knowing the main reasons why she was so affected by it. 

It was something she had deliberately avoided thinking about. Not wanting to deal with the consequences of whatever decision she made, so she was happy to muddle through the somewhat uncomfortable place they were in. Besides, there was nothing she could do about it, neither willing to reveal her secrets nor end things with him. 

Her primary concerns having been dismissed, Hermione found her meditations going better than they had in months. Easily falling into the trance and feeling her animagus form nudge itself ever closer to her consciousness. 

After nearly a month of feeling her form nosing around the boundary of her mind, Hermione was almost surprised when it made itself known to her—clawing its way into her psyche. 

Suddenly, as if it had broken through some barrier within her, Hermione could see it all. The small ears, the fluffy tail and the dark fur. It all felt like her, like it was just another version of herself and one that she should have known her whole life. As if she should have been born with claws instead of nails. Like she never should have risen off all fours and instead have spent her life running close to the ground, scurrying around the world. 

It was a strange experience; incredible and almost indescribable, it left her desperate to transform. To release this version of herself that had been trapped within her disappointingly human form for so long. But the human part of her also knew she couldn't. Not yet, at least. 

While catching the first glimpse of her form was exhilarating, she was in no way ready to attempt the actual transformation, as much as she wished she could. She still had to wait until she was truly one with her form. Sharing its instincts, and feeling it, ever-present within herself, rather than just getting glances when she fell into the trance. Until she could feel it’s heartbeat within herself, and even then she had to wait for a storm— a desperate game of patience, waiting to free herself from the confines of her body. 

Still, as long as Hermione knew she had to wait to see any more of her form, she had to do  _ something _ , needed to share her excitement. So, she found herself stalking Sirius as he meandered through the halls, contemplating whether he had to attend the Ancient Runes class they shared first thing. 

Thankfully, he was alone, allowing her to pull him into an empty classroom. She barely gave him a chance to recognise her as she flicked up security spells before spinning to face him. 

“Kitten?” His voice was questioning and quietly concerned as he took in her almost manic demeanour—magic crackling off her as she struggled to contain her excitement. 

“I saw it!” She exclaimed, words clumped together like she couldn’t share the news fast enough. Darting forwards impulsively to throw her arms around him in her excitement. Before he could respond, she bounced away, pacing rapidly in front of him as the excess energy she could feel tried to burn itself out. 

Grinning at her, he spoke, “Your form.” 

Not a question. It didn’t need to be. He knew how it felt to discover that other version of yourself after all. The absolute release it allowed, second only to actually transforming. 

“Yes!” She continued to bounce on the spot. 

“Well go on then, Mini. Was I right to start calling you Kitten?”

This time the grin spread across her face, “Nope!”

“Really,” his voice was low, and teasing, “Then what should I start calling you?”

“Hmmm,” As Hermione contemplated her options, she could feel her energy slowly draining as the adrenaline that came from learning her form fled her body. She could tell him, of course, but there was another option that was so much more tempting, “I don’t think I’ll tell you. In fact, I think I’ll let it be a surprise.”

“Then I’m going to keep calling you Kitten until you’ve proved otherwise.” 

Glaring mockingly at him she answered with a snappy, “Fine,” but was secretly thrilled he would keep using it. As much as Hermione usually hated nicknames, something about it felt like theirs.

He had gifted her ‘Mini’ too, but none of the other boys had encroached on ‘Kitten’ the same way they had her other nickname. All casually using it like they did their Marauder titles, one of the many small ways they tried to include her in their group. Thinking about it now though, Hermione supposed there was something fundamentally different between the two, in a way she would never be comfortable with Remus calling her Kitten. The thought, frankly, too horrifying to even contemplate. James too, falling into the category of expressly forbidden from ever letting the name fall from his lips. 

It left only Sirius to use the diminutive as she had never accepted any form of nickname from Peter, not that he had ever tried to address her with one. Instead, it felt like something they shared between the two of them. Symbolic of their secrets and the way Sirius held such a unique place in her life that she wasn’t even sure what it was. Only that she knew it was different to Remus and James and it certainly wasn’t the resentment she felt towards Peter. 

He was just Sirius, and at some point that had come to mean she shared more with him than even her own blood. Second only to Pandora in knowing her secrets and holding a completely vital place in her life, relying on him more than he likely even realised. It was part of why the situation at Christmas had hurt her so much, and how relieved she was to have put it behind them. She was still relying on him to help her realise her goals, after all. 

Hermione was quiet as she thought about it, and felt the last of the adrenaline drain out of her. With its absence, she felt exhausted, muscles aching as if she had run a mile, and she wished she could retreat to her dorm even as early in the day as it was. Unfortunately, she had a full day of classes ahead of her, and while she was confident she didn’t need the time in lessons, her absence would be noted. And Hermione didn’t feel like coming up with excuses, especially were her brother to come looking for answers as to why she had disappeared for the day.

“Come on,” she said, gesturing to the hallway for them to head to Ancient Runes. 

Sirius, however, made a noise of disagreement, “I was actually thinking of forgoing Runes today, Kitten.” 

She had already suspected as much but was determined to drag him along with her. If only so she had someone to nudge her in case she fell asleep mid-lesson. 

“Nope, you’re coming,” she approached him. 

“Kitten,” his voice was warning, but she ignored it. 

Wrapping a hand around his arm and she tried to spin them towards the door.

“I thought you still wanted to be an Auror with James,” she questioned, and when he nodded in agreement continued, “Well then we both know you need to come. Five Exceeds Expectations is what you’ll need to get in, isn’t it?” She knew it was, having spent many hours discussing the program with both Kingsley and Harry. 

“Yes,” he reluctantly agreed, and she smirked in triumph. 

“Then you’re coming because as I recall, you’re only taking five NEWTS, so there’s no room for you to mess one up.” He shot her a dirty look, but she continued unperturbed, “Besides, I’m exhausted. I’ll need you to keep me awake.” 

He chucked and gave into her efforts, letting her direct him towards the door. Flicking down the privacy wards, she dragged him out into the corridor, laughing at his continued feigned efforts to escape. As they left though, Hermione’s eyes met Kingsley’s from across the hall.

“Kingsley,” she whispered under her breath. She and Sirius came to a sudden halt, both falling silent as they took in the figure across the hall. 

They were all frozen in a bizarre tableau. She and Sirius outlined by the doorway of the classroom they were escaping. Kingsley opposite them, stuck almost mid-step as he made his way along the corridor. All of them trapped in their own little world, unaware of students shuffling around them. None of them knew what to do, and the silence was deafening, existing only between the three of them, distant sounds of chattering first years and doors slamming going unnoticed. 

Eventually, Sirius broke away from where Hermione still had her hand wrapped around his bicep. Glancing back at her, his face was solemn, and he gave her an apologetic look before muttering a quiet goodbye, heading in the direction of Gryffindor Tower. 

He didn’t offer excuses for her this time. It was hardly as incriminating as the last time Kingsley had caught them together. Too early in the day, and far too busy a part of the castle for the two of them to be seeking any real semblance of privacy. It felt worse this time, though. Their relationship was in a far more tenuous state than before. 

Looking back towards him, Kingsley’s face was expressionless, something that did nothing to reassure her. Swallowing, Hermione braced herself and addressed him again. This time a greeting rather than a surprised realisation,

“Kingsley,” Her mouth hung open after she said it, unsure how to continue the sentence or even where to begin the conversation. 

He shifted his body from its side stance to face her fully for the first time, “Hermione,” his voice was low and darker than she had ever heard it, making something clench in her chest. “Black need you to fix his problems again?”

Distantly she felt herself draw her lip up between her teeth, biting on it as she tried to release some of the anxious energy that had built up within her. He hadn’t accused her of anything, but his tone still felt like he had.

“No,” she shook her head. Deciding to tell him some semblance of the truth in a desperate attempt to mitigate any further damage to their relationship, “Sirius has been helping me with a project. I made some progress this morning, and I was just telling him about it.”

“Right,” he paused, looking at her for a moment, but Hermione couldn’t determine in what way, “A private project, I suppose?” She nodded helplessly, unable to explain any further, and he scoffed, shaking his head, “Of course.”

Hermione didn't know how to respond to his words but found she didn’t have to as Kingsley started speaking again, “Well, I’ve got to get to defence. See you around, I guess.”

The words were terse, and he turned sharply, marching off down the corridor. As tired as Hermione had felt coming down from the high of discovering her form, it was ten-fold after their encounter. Exhausted by the secrets she was keeping and the constantly present discomfort between them.

As determined as she had been to attend class, she no longer had it in her to go. Too worn out to contemplate spending the day pretending to learn spells she had mastered long ago. 

Instead, she fled towards the seventh floor, desperate to be alone and spend the day embracing her melancholy mood. Hoping she could think of ways to repair the ever fraying rift between her and Kingsley, but Hermione doubted there was much she could do to save them. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know the Amortentia thing is probably over done for our Lily realisation but its basically a hallmark at this point and I really wanted to include it so I just gave over the impulse 😂 and hopefully y'all enjoyed it even though if your like me you've read it a million times before 💕
> 
> TW: none i can think of


	20. The Necklace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy sunday!!  
> and happy valentines day!! i hope y'all are having a lovely day and getting to spend it with your loved ones (safely!), or like me am enjoying it alone with most of a bottle of wine 💕  
> pinterest : https://pin.it/537nqWV

**March 1977**

Since their conversation by the lake, Regulus found himself hunting down Pandora more and more frequently. He didn’t know if they were friends yet, but something about her company was soothing. It seemed he was incapable of keeping secrets from her anyway and as the only person aware of the brand on his arm he sought out her company as someone he didn’t have to continually worry about keeping his secret from. 

Besides, for all she may not have been marked, and likely never would be, Bellatrix, an exception to the Dark Lord’s archaic preferences, Pandora’s family was just as caught up in the Death Eater’s as his was. There was every chance she would be brought into the fold, making her the ideal person to quietly pass the time with whenever he needed a break from everything else. 

At first, Pandora had continually found him in the library. Since Christmas though, he wanted more privacy, so they had moved to the abandoned classroom on the third floor. They didn’t have set times to meet. Pandora just always knew when he needed the comfort of her presence and would be waiting for him there, no exchange of words necessary. 

Regulus couldn’t say what drove his desire to see her that day. But the echoes of pain that tingled through the mark had him on edge, making him unwilling to return to the bustle of the common room. Instead, seeking out the peace of their hideaway and Pandora’s non-judgemental presence. 

Approaching the classroom, however, he could hear faint voices coming from within. Not loud enough that he could understand what they were saying, but enough he knew Pandora wasn’t alone in their escape. 

Peeking around the door, he could make out two pale blonde heads close together as they talked. He stood there watching like some kind of voyeur as Xenophillius Lovegood was entranced by Pandora, who was making notes on a piece of parchment. 

He knew of the older boy from his mother’s strict lessons on Pureblood family trees. She had told him the entire trunk was rotten, that the Lovegood’s were nothing but blood-traitors, while simultaneously forcing Sirius and him to memorise their entire lineage, as she had all the other Pureblood families. 

Like most of his mother’s teachings, Regulus hadn’t taken them to heart, and instead knew more about Lovegood from this reputation around the castle. The seventh-year was eccentric and renowned for his belief in various imaginary creatures but otherwise considered harmless. Regulus hadn’t given him much thought beyond that. Watching their interaction now it was obvious Lovegood was completely besotted with Pandora, even though Regulus couldn’t tell if his affections were returned. 

Still, hovering outside the door, he didn’t know if he should enter. Typically the classroom was his and Pandora’s space, and he would have thrown the door open without care. But the two of them looked far more intimate than should be possible for people reading together. 

Close as he was now, Regulus could make out Pandora’s words when she spoke again, her voice the soft, melodic tone it always was, “You’re going to have to leave now, Xeno. I’m expecting my visitor. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Lovegood didn’t argue with her. Simply gathering his belongings and saying a quiet goodbye, he glanced back at her once while turning towards the door. Regulus jumped away from it, not wanting to get caught eavesdropping. As he exited the room though, Lovegood only tilted his head in acknowledgement before continuing down the corridor. 

Entering the classroom, Regulus was taken back by the wistful expression on Pandora’s face. As she gazed in the direction Lovegood had gone all his questions over returned feelings were answered. Considering Pandora’s sad smile, and Lovegood’s longing gaze, it seemed unlikely either of them would act on those feelings though. Instead, they both exuded an air of resigned acceptance, as if the other was something neither of them could ever have.

Refocusing as he entered the room, Pandora smiled up at him in greeting, “Hello, Regulus.”

Usually, he had no issue placing his belongings down next to her and making himself comfortable, but he couldn’t shake the feeling he had just intruded on something private. He felt like he should apologise for the interruption, even though Pandora had sent Lovegood away of her own accord. Before he had the chance to do so, she continued, 

“Xenophillius won’t tell anyone we come here. We just don’t have much time left together before he’s done here,” she smiled sadly. Regulus suddenly needed to know more about their relationship. He had assumed they were only friends, albeit with unacknowledged feelings, but Pandora’s words implied differently. 

“Are you…” he paused while trying to find the right wording, “Are you and Lovegood together?” It sounded childish somehow, but it was the best he could come up with. 

At his words, Pandora’s smile turned melancholy again, “We’re just friends. Maybe, if the circumstances were different?” She shrugged gently, the movement out of place on the usually elegant girl, “But Father would never accept him, and if news got back to him we were anything more than that…”

This time she was the one who trailed off, eyes distant in a way he had grown all too familiar with. It was the look she had before she said something uncomfortably truthful, “Maybe, someday.” 

A small smile played about her lips again, no longer the sad one from before but something cautiously optimistic. 

Discussion over, Regulus took his usual seat at her side and glanced at the new book she had pulled from her bag, eyebrows raising at the dark tome. It certainly wasn’t one you could find in the Hogwarts Library and maybe not even in the restricted section. He only recognised it from Grimmauld’s library shelves, where it sat among other Dark Art’s books. 

He must have made a surprised sound at the sight of it because Pandora turned her gaze back towards him. Gesturing at the book he asked questions without speaking, and Pandora looked at him contemplatively for a moment before explaining. 

“I told you a time would come when you discovered the truth, and I promised when that time came there would be another option. Consider this us ensuring there will be.”

It was a cryptic answer and did nothing to explain why she would be reading books on dark curses, but she explained no further.

“Us?” Regulus questioned. 

“Indeed. I, after all, am merely the messenger.”

“What?” he replied, dumbfounded, unsure who she could possibly be referring to. Pandora associated with few people, and none of them were the type he would think of to get him out of the terrible situation Pandora assured him was coming. 

“When the time comes, all will become clear but until then, know that we are rooting for you, Regulus Arcturus Black.” 

  
  


* * *

Pandora was already gone when Hermione woke, something that surprised her as the sun was only just peeping over the trees of the forest. Bracing herself to leave the warmth of her bed, she smiled at the small, neatly wrapped gift on her desk. 

Opening it carefully, she found a delicate chain with the rune for destiny on it, along with a note in Pandora’s elegant cursive. 

_A reminder that even when things fall apart, it happens for a reason._

Ignoring the strangely ominous note for a birthday message, she clipped it around her neck and thought ahead to the rest of the day while getting dressed. The boys usually made a massive fuss out of birthdays, enjoying any excuse to celebrate. They had only restrained themselves in November because of the attack. She was sure they would be even more enthusiastic than usual because of it, no matter how much she and Remus protested their dramatics. 

Even as early as it was, she was greeted by their excited faces leaving the Tower. Remus looked fondly exasperated by his friend’s enthusiasm. He was clearly thrilled they cared enough to make such a scene but was also unwilling to betray quite how much he appreciated it. 

As they greeted her, she was surprised they even had the restraint to wait outside the tower. Sure that Remus had been the one to talk them out of it after third-year when Ravenclaw’s riddle protected door had proved far too tempting a target. 

They had hidden in the common room and jumped out to surprise her as she made her way downstairs. They had succeeded, along with scaring half of Ravenclaw and earnt themselves all detention because of it. Something they still swore was worth it for the look on her face. Even Remus, despite the fact he had spent his fourteenth birthday polishing trophies under the watchful eye of Filch. 

Birthday greetings complete, they started dragging her towards the Great Hall. Over their years at Hogwarts, Hermione had spent plenty of time at the Gryffindor table, but none of it had been recently, and she dreaded the thought of running into Kingsley. 

The fortnight after their confrontation had been spent in uncomfortable silence when they weren’t actively avoiding each other. Something Hermione had been only too happy to do as she escaped to the Hospital Wing with Remus for the full moon last week. 

Her protests went unheard though, as Sirius promised they had a surprise organised and they all looked at her with pleading eyes. Unable to deny them at the best of times, she took in their hopeful expressions and her brother’s small smirk at the reminder of whatever prank they had planned and gave in. Letting them direct her towards the unsurprisingly empty table given the early hour, they corralled her into a seat opposite Remus, James next to him and Sirius, her. Peter forever on the edge of their little group, never entirely sure where to fit when the five of them were together. 

Preparing herself breakfast, Hermione was soon distracted by the excitement of gifts as she and Remus were both handed theirs. The boys gave her brother a whole collection of Honeydukes’ chocolate and Zonko’s products they must have snuck out to get as Hogsmeade was not until the coming weekend.

Other than that Remus received several books from her and most importantly a watch from their parents. The traditional gift for a wizards coming-of-age Sirius had received his from the Potter’s months ago. Part of Hermione had worried her father wouldn’t have given one to Remus, never quite willing to accept that her brother was far more wizard than beast. But appearances demanded he received one, and had he not it would have opened them up to far more speculation than any of them were comfortable with. 

Besides, while their mother was never really willing to involve herself in any arguments between them and their father, it would have saddened her to think of Remus not receiving such a gift so Lyall Lupin would have sent it even if only to appease his wife. 

While the watch was traditional for wizards, there was no such equivalent for witches. Hermione instead received a beautiful, engraved silver bracelet she recognised as her mother’s. She knew it had been a wedding gift from her father, Remus’ watch having been it’s reciprocal, both passed down to their children as they became adults. Part sentimentality, part practicality as they both knew their parents wouldn’t have been able to afford such gifts new. Neither of them cared about that though, instead happily placing their present on their respective wrists. 

Apart from the bracelet, the boys gave her various books and other trinkets, carefully avoiding jewellery that could imply romantic intentions. The years of being presented to society may have passed, but Magical Britain stuck firmly to its traditions, and many of them still stood. With arranged marriages and duels still considered legitimate, a gift of jewellery from one of her pureblood friends could imply far more than any of them wished it to. So, it was all something they carefully avoided, giving books and other gifts that people would struggle to misconstrue. 

Gift exchanges finally complete, Hermione turned back towards food but was again distracted by someone sitting next to her. Looking around, she took in Kingsley’s sheepish smile as he wished her happy birthday, completely missing the conversation happening to her other side. 

“Soon, right?” Sirius asked the other Marauders, and Remus glanced down at the newly placed watch, nodding in reply. All four Marauders were grinning mischievously as they looked around the hall. Hermione, meanwhile, was oblivious to the oncoming chaos as she made stilted conversation with Kingsley, who seemed determined to avoid ruining her day with any lingering tension. 

Their awkward conversation didn’t last long. The hall soon filled with chattering voices that gradually got louder as surprised confessions escaped students desperately trying to avoid making them. 

Just down from them, Lily Evans started talking unthinkingly, “I think my Amortentia smells like J…” Dishes clattered as she slapped her hand across her mouth. Muffling the last word, she flushed red with embarrassment while her friends giggled wildly at her expression. 

Hermione was so shocked by the anarchy around her she didn’t even realise she was speaking until the words had already escaped her. Looking directly at Kingsley, they slipped from her mouth, unimpeded and completely comprehensible, 

“I like you, but I don’t know if it’s enough.” Sadness coated the words, and her face fell as soon as she said them. Kingsley’s face followed as they both went silent under the weight of her unwilling confession. 

Before whatever the Marauder’s had done could get her to spill any more of her secrets, she slammed her Occlumency shields into place. Suddenly, she was immensely grateful for all the work she had put into the art while trying to get Harry to learn. It was by no means something she was a master at, but without a Legillimens to test them, there was only so much she could do. So Hermione doubted her shields would hold up against any real kind of attack. Still, her fears over Dumbledore discovering what she knew meant she practised constantly. And what she had achieved so far was at least enough to stop her from spilling more sensitive secrets and left her to deal with the consequences of what she had said. 

The Marauders too had fallen silent at her words, watching her and Kingsley as they both sat there stunned. Kingsley eventually took a breath before asking, “What?”

Hermione didn’t know what to say in response. It wasn’t as if what she said had been a lie, in fact, it was everything she was too scared to admit she had been thinking about their relationship. That no matter how much she liked Kingsley, and she liked him far more than she ever expected to, which made accepting the truth so much harder. She didn’t know if it was enough. 

She didn’t know if her feelings would ever be given the opportunity to further develop because she would always be keeping things from him. Even discounting her plans for Tom Riddle, there were whole parts of her life, she could never share with him. She would never abandon Remus after all, so she would spend the rest of her life disappearing periodically and be unable to explain why. Forever keeping secrets. All of it contributed to her fear that no matter how much she liked him, it would never be enough. 

That didn’t mean she wanted to accept it. No matter how common the thought had become over the past few months, some part of her had hoped they would be able to salvage their relationship. That things would go back to the kind of perfect closeness they had last term, like after the attack. That they could keep on existing in those moments, tucked up in his bed, safe from the world and all of her other responsibilities. Just the two of them lingering in the sanctuary of his room, with nothing between them but his Quidditch jersey and a cup of tea, made exactly how she liked it.

Now though, all hope of it had disappeared. 

Without further thought, she threw herself away from the table and ran out of the Great Hall. She didn’t care or even know what direction she was going in, she only knew that she had to get away from them all. 

Overwhelmed as she was, Hermione didn’t hear the footsteps running after her. So consumed by her panic that when a hand wrapped around hers and spun her to face him, she instinctively pulled out her wand. 

They were both panting heavily. Their chests were heaving as they gazed at each other, only Hermione’s wand separating them where it was pressed against his chest. She tried to back away, but he kept a firm grip on her hand, refusing to let her escape again. 

“What did you mean you don't know if it’s enough,” Kingsley exclaimed.

“I’m sorry,” she rasped. 

“Hermione, talk to me,” he pleaded desperately as he took her hand in both of his, but she pulled away again, tears building in her eyes. 

“Oh, Kingsley,” she whispered, voice sorrowful, “You must have known this was coming.”

He was shaking his head as she spoke, but Hermione carried on determined to finish the conversation now it had started. “I didn’t want it to, but we both knew.” 

“It doesn’t have to!” He cried out, trying to pull her back towards him again, but she resisted and put even more distance between them. “Just talk to me! _For once_ tell me something!”

“I can’t! There’s so much I can’t tell you.” 

“Oh, but you can tell Black!” He snapped, unaddressed anger rearing its head in the heat of the moment. 

“He already knew!” The tears spilled over, but neither of them noticed. 

“All these fucking secrets - can’t you just tell me _something,_ ” Rage drained out of him as quickly as it had appeared, and turned back to pleading. 

She had no answer. Nothing she said could explain the depths of the secrets she was keeping. Part of her, the part that felt like it was breaking in two and like the whole world was tilting on its axis, wished she could, but the rest of her knew she couldn’t. As much as it hurt, she still had things she needed to do, and she couldn’t let the way it felt like something inside her was ripping distract her from that. 

“I’m sorry, I wish I could tell you, I do, but …” she trailed off, taking deep, shuddering breaths, wiping frantically at her eyes, trying to clear her vision. 

“Why?” he begged again, voice anguished. 

“I just can’t. And it kills me, but I’m never going to be able to, so I’m sorry. I’m _so_ sorry. Maybe I never should have started anything with you, but I liked you too much not too. Still like you too much.” 

“Hermione, what are you talking about?”

“We can’t do this anymore,” she swallowed. “ You’re going to be fantastic Auror, Kingsley. And you’re going to do so many wonderful things with your life. Brave, noble things, but I’m not going to be there to see them.”

“What do you mean,” he whispered like he was afraid of the answer. 

“Goodbye, Kingsley.” her voice broke, and she turned and sprinted in the direction of Ravenclaw tower, holding back sobs. This time, unfollowed as Kingsley stood frozen, in shock. 

She couldn’t remember running up the stairs, or even answering the riddle to get into the tower but found herself crying into her knees on the other side of her door. Only stopping to take gasping breaths as she looked towards her desk where she could see Pandora’s note where it was forgotten from the morning. Something that made a sob tear its way out of her throat, unsure what could come from how impossibly broken she felt. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I AM SO SORRY!!!  
> so this chapter was initally scheduled for next week, with the cute amortentia/valentines day chapter for actual valentines (i was so proud of myself for that lol) but then i got excited and posted a chapter early forgetting that means all the other chapters get bumped forward a week and next thing i know im looking at what is being posted today and im like - oh no, oh no no no no no - so i'm very sorry, hopefully y'all are having a better day than hermione 😳
> 
> TW: none i can think of


	21. The Rotten Tree

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy sunday!!  
> hope y'all had a lovely week even after i broke your hearts on valentines day (which again - i'm sorry about 😂)  
> also - just incase y'all didn't notice - i've started a lil outtakes fic - its just going to be scenes that didn't fit in here, or that i kind of mention but really wanted to write once i'd thought of them - they're just little drabbles really but they're the second work in this if anyone is interested
> 
> pinterest : https://pin.it/537nqWV
> 
> TW in end notes

**Spring 1977**

Hermione woke to Pandora quietly closing their door as she looked over her bed with pitying eyes.  Her whole face felt dry, and despite having just woken, she was exhausted. No rest really able to come from having cried herself to sleep. 

Before she could decide how to react, Pandora approached her bed, telling her to budge over and climbing in next to her, whispering, “Hey.”

The quiet word broke something in Hermione, and she turned into her friend's embrace, tears reforming in her eyes as she sought comfort after her day had gone so wrong. Her seventeenth birthday celebrated with a break-up and the day spent crying alone in her room. 

Some small malicious part of her wanted to blame Pandora and the boys for what had happened. Pandora, for knowing it was coming, the necklace a clear indication that she had. And the boys for their stupid prank that had inadvertently caused their final argument. Hermione knew it wasn’t either of their faults, though. 

Her words had been something she’d been thinking for a long time but hadn’t wanted to admit. Pandora had only said what they’d all seen coming, so as much as it hurt, and as much as she wanted to blame them, Hermione knew she couldn’t. Instead, she buried that piece of herself underneath her sadness and accepted the comfort of her friend. Crying into her arms as she accepted the inevitable. 

As her sobs grew quieter, Pandora’s hand soothed small circles on her back. Waiting until Hermione’s breathing had evened out to speak, “Your brother’s worried.” 

Hermione hummed in acknowledgement but couldn’t bring herself to answer.

“They all are, really. They were waiting outside the common room, but I sent them away. I didn’t think you’d want to see them just yet.”

Shaking her head gently, Hermione was relieved she didn’t have to face them. She could already see their apologetic faces, and while she didn’t blame them, she wasn’t ready to allay that guilt either. Far happier spending the evening alone with Pandora, regardless of how miserable a birthday celebration it seemed. 

“Thank you,” she whispered. Drawing up the courage to ask the question she’d been thinking since she saw the note for a second time. “You knew it was coming, didn’t you.”

“Yes,” Pandora admitted, sad but not apologetic. “I didn’t know when, but I knew it was coming. Some things aren’t meant to last, after all. They only pave the way for others in the future.”

Tired as she was, Hermione couldn’t even begin to decipher Pandora’s meaning. Instead, she nodded in acceptance and let herself drift back to sleep, leaving the day behind her. 

* * *

The weeks after their break up passed quickly. The Marauders had sent her brother to check on her the next morning. Armed with the Honeydukes he’d received for their birthday and laden with apologies, he’d made a pitiful picture. She knew the boys felt guilty, but she also knew this never would have been their intention, so she’d accepted the offered chocolate, relief crossing her brother’s face as it was clear he had no idea how to react to the situation. 

It wasn’t as if either of them had been in a real relationship before. Kingsley, the first person to make it through the Marauder’s unspoken intimidation, he was one of the only people she’d made it on a second date with. And while the last months of their relationship had been primarily spent in uncomfortable silence, it was still a more serious relationship than any of Remus’s. 

She knew her brother wasn’t ready to accept the idea of a real relationship anyway. Too afraid of himself to allow such fantasies, but Hermione was determined to eventually convince him he was allowed the love he denied himself. Until then, though, she preferred not to think of anything more casual he may have been engaging in. Not that she really suspected Remus of partaking in the kinds of proclivities Sirius was renowned for. 

That same malicious part of her she’d buried thought about being more difficult. About shouting at them for their stupidity and inability to think through the consequences of their  _ pranks, _ but she knew her confession wasn’t their intention. And it was likely the fact she’d been hiding so many other secrets that caused her to reveal her worries about their relationship, rather than something more mundane, like everyone else who’d been dosed by the babbling potion. 

Besides, Remus looked so intensely guilty she couldn’t bring herself to be mad with him. It wasn’t his fault, after all. So, instead, she told him the truth. That she was sad and disappointed but ultimately fine, and that she just needed space to process. 

Other than that, she had avoided everything to do with Gryffindor. Embracing her melancholy mood, Hermione retreated back into her dorm, like she had at the beginning of term. Leaving only to attend class and eat quick, silent meals, avoiding her brother, his friends and Kingsley. 

After two weeks of moping, though, Hermione had accepted what happened. That the secrets in her life had led to the death of her first real relationship, and her pain turned to anger, leaving her itching for a new form of release. 

Sirius had been shocked when she passed him the note, and Hermione felt guilty for her abrupt absence but knew the boys would forgive her soon enough. He’d still nodded to her in agreement without ever opening said note after all. 

It was late when he met her outside the Room of Requirement. Neither of them spoke in the exposed corridor, Sirius only shooting her a questioning look. It gave the whole thing the same air of illicitness as their first late-night meeting.

Hermione ignored him and instead started pacing back and forward, willing the room into existence. 

Pureblood manners deeply ingrained, despite his attempts to shirk them, Sirius opened the door for her before entering himself. Gazing around the room in shock. Clearly expecting the replica of the Lupin’s kitchen they usually met in. 

Instead, he was faced with a room Hermione had conjured from her memories. The cavernous space taking on the form it once had for Dumbledore’s Army. Dark walls and towering pillars. It was vast and empty. Designed to train teenagers for war. 

In Umbridge’s castle, it had been exactly what they needed to assist in their task. The thrill of mock duels and Patronus practice had been more than enough to mask the cold atmosphere, and back then, it had been one of the only happy places in the castle. 

Now though, with only Hermione and Sirius standing in the entry, it was a foreboding space. Drastically different to the usually cosy atmosphere of the Lupin's kitchen. 

Still, it suited her purpose, so Hermione embraced the familiar space. Taking in the room that had only existed in her head until that moment. A confirmation of everything she knew. 

Eventually, Sirius broke the silence. His voice echoing around them, “Mini, what is this place.” 

“Nowhere important,” she lied. 

It might have meant nothing to him, but to her, it was an affirmation of every one of her goals. She’d learn to fight here once before, and now, with an even greater burden resting on her shoulders, she’d learn again. 

“Then what are we doing here,” Sirius frowned, suspicion coating the words. 

“I have another favour to ask of you.”

He didn’t say anything. Just kept his gaze on her, as if he could determine her meaning through sight alone. 

“We both know bad things are coming. That the attack was only the start.” He nodded but didn’t interrupt her. “I want to learn to fight.”

“What?” He choked in confusion, but Hermione interrupted before he could continue. 

“I need to know. We both do.”

Sirius still hadn’t spoken and instead looked at her assessingly. Examining her through new eyes and Hermione wondered if she’d made a mistake in asking for his help. It was a very different request than asking for his assistance with the animagus transformation, and she wondered if it was asking too much of him. 

Still, something told her it wasn’t. That it would become yet another of their secrets. She could have asked Pandora, but something in her wanted it to be Sirius. She had missed him while avoiding everything to do with Gryffindor, and the part of her that had come to rely on him had craved his company. 

Their casually joking friendship having become increasingly intimate over the last few months as Sirius grew into someone more like the man she imagined he’d once been. Willing not only to risk his life for his friends but to break out of Azkaban to protect their child. So immensely loyal, he’d signed himself up as bait to protect Lily and James. 

Before she could contemplate their relationship for too long, though, Sirius finally broke the silence, “Go on.”

“I know it all theoretically, but I have no practical experience. If you want to get into the Auror program, you’ll need more too, so I thought we could help each other. You practice with me, and I finally get to do something with all the information floating around my head.”

She didn’t need to tell him her knowledge was less theoretical than she’d implied. That she remembered what it was to fight battles, but her body didn’t know how. That she knew the incantations and wand movements by heart but lacked the instincts and stamina that came through experience. Hadn’t learnt how to control her magic, so she didn’t tire too quickly, a skill that came with in-person experience when Hermione’s was only in her head. 

Not that Sirius should have any more experience than she did outside of schoolyard skirmishes, but Hermione knew that wasn’t true. 

It was an open secret that Pureblood families let their children use magic outside of Hogwarts. Bypassing the trace through layer upon layer of wards and the number of adults using magic around them. Knowing this, pureblood children not only came to Hogwarts with a far larger repertoire of spells than expected but knowledge of more esoteric arts such as occlumency. And even after they had started their schooling, lessons would continue over summers, dedicated to the Dark Arts since classes were so  _ lacking  _ at Hogwarts. 

Sirius may have escaped Grimmauld Place as often as possible and avoided any mention of his time spent there, but he had been the Heir to the  _ House of Black _ for years before finally leaving. And of the two of them, he would be far more experienced. 

Looking her over once again, Sirius nodded, “Very well then, Kitten. But I won’t go easy on you.”

* * *

The rest of the term passed quickly, with James’ birthday being the only incident of any note.

Falling the week before the holiday, the Marauders forwent their usual prank, considering how badly it had gone on the twin’s birthday. Instead, they kicked all the younger years out of the common room, threw up a strong silencing charm and broke out Sirius’ record player with a crate of firewhisky. Lily, the proud prefect, who was desperately aiming for Head Girl, having been cowed into submission by her friends. 

At first, Hermione hadn’t wanted to attend. She was still avoiding Gryffindor, not wanting to encroach on Kingsley space despite the fact he didn’t even live in the tower, but the Marauders hadn’t given her much choice. Showing up at Ravenclaw and threatening entry until she came out, dragging her along with them and plying her with butterbeer to calm her nerves. It had worked, and she’d enjoyed an evening of alcohol-induced relaxation.

The other Hermione. The one that no longer felt like some different version of herself but more like someone she used to be, someone she had grown beyond, would have been horrified by the party, but she wasn’t that person anymore. Somewhere between who she was having grown up with the Marauders and what she had experienced in her other life, she had relaxed a lot. Or rather, learned to worry about things more important than school rules.

Losing everything had a way of doing that to a person, and it wasn’t worth alienating those she loved for the sake of a few rules they’d have broken anyway. So, she accepted the butterbeers with minimal complaint and let them have their fun. 

Other than that, training with Sirius filled most of her free time. The two of them slowly working up to more advanced duelling. Hermione enjoyed their time together. The release it allowed, a reliever from all the other stress in her life but the chance to spend more time with Sirius. Whose presence she enjoyed even as they fired hexes at each other from across the Room of Requirement. 

With Easter approaching, she and Remus had decided to stay over the holiday. The full moon fell during the first week of April, and without the same desperation to escape the castle as Christmas, they both knew he would have a more pleasant time at Hogwarts than at home. Sirius and James also agreed to stay after she and Remus had announced their intentions, but Peter had been called home by his parents. Once again of the outskirts of their little group. 

The castle mostly empty; the boys passed the full moon together in the shack while Hermione enjoyed some peace. It was soon disrupted when the moon had gone, though, and the Marauders were left as the sole occupants of Gryffindor tower. Giving them free rein to find whatever mischief they could in an all-but-abandoned castle. 

They mainly passed hours on the Quidditch pitch while Hermione read quietly in the stands. Spending the evenings harassing the house elves for snacks and restarting their poker ring, betting whatever they’d snuck out of Honeydukes and drawing Hermione in as a fourth player more often than not. 

Their happiness was short-lived, though. A week into the holiday, James and Sirius had both woken feeling uneasy and suffering random bursts of accidental magic as if it was readjusting to some unknown change.

It was no real surprise then when a solemn-looking McGonagall interrupted their breakfast. Requesting James and Sirius went to her office, Hermione and Remus had trailed after them awkwardly. Unwilling to abandon their friends to what they all knew was bad news. 

Reaching McGonagall's office, they could see the Potters inside. Dorea drew James and Sirius into a quick hug before the door was closed. Hermione and Remus stuck outside, waiting for their friends. 

When they exited the office, both boys looked grave, but Sirius looked truly ashen. Walking back towards the tower in silence, it was only once the portrait hole had closed that Sirius spoke, “It was my Uncle Alphard. They found his body this morning. Heart attack, they think.”

He didn’t elaborate any further, settling back into his shell shocked expression. 

They had all known something like it had happened. Family magic only reacted like that to the loss of one of its members; they just hadn’t known who it was. Only that it had to be some relation of the both of them, distant, but not so much they weren’t affected. 

After a few moments of quiet, James spoke, “Mum and Dad were here to let us know. We’re flooing home for the rest of the holiday.”

Through his explanation, Sirius remained frozen, staring off into the middle distance, unresponsive. 

Still, James continued, “They were wondering if you wanted to come back with us. They thought the distraction might be a good idea.”

Hermione agreed without a thought. The idea of abandoning their friends was something she and Remus had been dreading. Even if it felt intrusive to go to their home during a time of mourning, Hermione doubted the Potters would feel that way. Having long ago embraced them as their own. 

The next few days passed rapidly.

The return trip to Potter Manor was quickly overshadowed by the reading of Alphard’s will. Hermione had no reason to attend the reading and instead waited at the house with an anxious Remus, who didn’t know why Sirius had been summoned. Hermione had no such concerns; she already knew why. 

What she hadn’t expected was Sirius’ astonished expression when he returned. Clearly, he hadn’t expected to receive anything, assuming he’d been summoned merely as a formality. Instead, he was the primary beneficiary and had been left most of Alphard’s fortune as well as a flat in Muggle London. It certainly accounted for his surprise, but beneath that, there was barely suppressed anger that had not been there before they left. 

James' account of the reading explained where it came from, though. Upon hearing who the recipient had been, Walburga had lost all sense of decorum. Labelling Alphard a  _ blood traitor, _ she had decried him while they were still in the lawyers’ office. 

Even Sirius’s rage tinged surprise had paled in comparison to his expression when the Potter’s returned from the funeral, though. As Alphard held no true position in the family, not even on the same branch as the Head of House, many of the formalities hadn’t been considered necessary. 

There was no place in the family plot for him, nor was there a ritual burial as there would have been for any ranking member. Instead, Alphard’s ceremony was a wizarding funeral at a graveyard in London. So, it should have been an uneventful affair. But when the Potters and Sirius returned, all four of them looked stunned, and Hermione knew  _ something _ must have happened as even Dorea’s facade of calm had been disturbed. 

Looking to her for direction, Dorea finally spoke, “My niece took great pleasure in announcing she burned Alphard off the tree in front of the entire family. It was quite the scene.” 

Knowing Dorea, that was an understatement and judging by Sirius' reaction, it was a large one. Something in the explanation released the anger that had been building in him since the reading. He flung himself out of his chair, storming from the room muttering to himself about ‘that fucking bitch.’ 

None of them followed, and instead, they all stayed in the silent parlour. Dorea and Charlus eventually announced they were retiring for the evening, but even beyond that, none of them moved. 

Hermione didn’t know how long she sat there with James and Remus, all silently processing the afternoon. But eventually, she pled exhaustion as well and retreated upstairs in the direction Sirius had gone. 

His room was completely silent from the outside, a clear sign he had cast a silencing charm, so she knocked hesitantly and waited for a reply. At first, she didn’t think he was going to respond, but after a moment, Sirius’ hoarse voice came from within, “What?”

Opening the door a fraction, Hermione took in the room. Photo frames and glassware shattered across the ground, furniture overturned, and in the middle of it all, Sirius was sat on the floor, slumped against the bed, a half-empty bottle of firewhisky in one hand. 

Slipping inside, she closed the door and cast a  _ muffliato _ and a locking charm to ensure they weren’t disturbed by either of their well-meaning brothers. Who would hopefully see the locked door and assume Sirius wanted privacy rather than her being in there with him, as she had no explanation as to why she would have sought out their friend to comfort him. At least not one that didn’t reveal secrets she wasn’t sure she’d ever be ready for them to know. 

She didn’t speak at first. Picking a careful path through the broken glass, she sat next to him, reaching for the whisky before she could think any better. Taking a swig, she coughed slightly, not used to the burn as she preferred Elf Wine or Butterbeer when she did drink, but it wasn’t as if there was much else on offer. Besides, something about the spirit felt right given the situation. 

Sirius at least cracked a smile at her reaction before snatching the bottle back and drinking more. Usually, Hermione would have berated him for it considering he’d already had most of a bottle, but on this occasion, she let it go. Knowing it wasn’t what he needed to hear. 

Instead, they fell back into silence. Each looking around the room as it was cast in the blueish light of twilight, examining the destruction Sirius had wrought. 

For the second time that evening, Hermione didn’t know how much time had passed, sitting there with him in the dusky room. Her eyes slowly adjusting until she could make out his figure next to her. Occasionally exchanging the bottle until she could feel its heat in her veins. 

Finally, Sirius' voice cut through the darkness, “I don’t know why I expected any different. She’s always been a  _ fucking _ monster. A little respect for her own brother was clearly too much to ask.”

Hermione didn’t dispute his words. She knew it was true. Though she had never met Walburga Black, she remembered the painting from Grimmauld Place all too well and knew she was not a woman who should have ever been allowed around children. 

Instead, she pressed her arm lightly against his in reassurance, and he continued, “And of course Grandfather wasn’t there to reign her in. Not that he’s ever given a shit about any of us, holing up in Midheaven and leaving us to rot. Letting her spew her bile and  _ fucking _ Reggie. Just sitting there letting her do it. Like he didn’t love Uncle Alphard once too. So far up that cunt’s arse, he probably doesn’t have any thoughts of his own left.”

She let him rant. Knowing that hearing how callously Walburga had rejected her own brother, at his funeral no less, had brought up memories from last Christmas, Sirius would rather he never had to re-live. 

Still, he kept going, “The entire fucking tree’s rotten.”

Again, Hermione could not deny him his rage. Most of the  _ House of Black _ was beyond redemption. Walburga, the monster Sirius claimed she was, Orion was equally guilty of neglect if not assistance. His grandparents had retreated into the Black family's estate years ago, abandoning their offspring to squabble over what influence they could get without an active Head of House. 

All of it contributed to the unspoken horrors of Sirius’ childhood, with one great exception. Alphard. One of the few family members who had genuinely cared for him outside of his position as Heir. Who had embraced and even encouraged Sirius’ rebellious nature until he could escape to the sanctuary of the Potters. 

“Guess I really am alone now.” The anger had left his voice, leaving Sirius sounding sad and confused. 

“Hey,” she interrupted for the first time, “that’s not true.”

“Of course, it is. Not one of them gives a shit about me. Even Reg can barely look at me these days.”

“Maybe,” Hermione allowed, “But it’s not just them remember. You have that cousin, don’t you? The one that married a muggleborn.” And her daughter Hermione thought to herself. Thinking of Tonks’ bright pink hair and ever-changing features, she’d be all of four-years-old now but would probably love Sirius. 

“Andie,” he agreed, smiling slightly at the mention, but his face soon returned to its previous depressed anger, “but she’s just as fucked as I am. Burned off the tree by old Wally long ago.”

“She's still your family, though, isn’t she? And James and Mr and Mrs P. They love you, Sirius, and even if you lose them all, you still have Remus and me. You will  _ never  _ be alone.”

The firewhisky had her almost shouting, so desperate to get her point across. That no matter what happened, she wouldn’t let him end up in Azkaban, nevermind that he didn’t know what she was worried about. 

“Maybe, Kitten. Maybe.” he eventually agreed, and Hermione slumped back against him, sharing that bottle of whisky until well into the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uncle Alphard 😭😭😭😭  
> But to quote the Bard - When sorrows come, they come not in single spies but in batalions.
> 
> Also - just in case it isn't clear Midheaven is the Black's ancestral home - like their Potter Manor but I like to think they'd be extra enough to name their House. Like Midheaven is their country home and Grimmauld is their London residence - I guess. I like to think they're fancy basically.
> 
> TW: Character Death


	22. An Impossible Weight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy sunday!!  
> i can't believe its the end of february already. i swear it was last march a week ago and yet is already back?? idk but i dont like it
> 
> a quick note about trigger warnings - i am still including them but have realised they were kind of spoilery for those who aren't as concerned about them, so they are going to be put in the end notes going fowards (i have also edited the previous chapter to match this).  
> i will include a note here that says if there is a relevant warning for the chapter and then if you would like to check you can just scroll down to the end.  
> hopefully that makes sense, i figure its makes sure everyone can read how they would like to
> 
> TW in end notes.

**May 1977**

James wasn’t sure how to feel about Alphard’s death. He’d only met the man on a couple of occasions, and while he had been every bit the fun Uncle that Sirius claimed he was, James didn’t know him well enough to really mourn his death. 

They rarely interacted with his mother’s family, after all. The Blacks hadn’t done anything as drastic as disowning her, but the disconnect was definitely there. And for as long as James could remember, his family had had nothing to do with them. He was also sure his mother had only been invited to her nephew’s funeral as a formality. Otherwise, she never would have been extended an invitation. Having long ago accepted by marrying Charlus Potter, she was leaving everything the Black family represented behind. 

Embracing the Potter’s muggle-loving ideals and other  _ blood-traitor _ ways, his mother had fully turned her back on her birth family. And, despite her more Slytherin qualities, she had been a consummate Potter James’ entire life.

Not that it had been a sacrifice to turn her back on them, he didn’t think. James could still see how much his parents loved each other even after being married for thirty-eight years. With many of those spent longing for children when eventually only he appeared. 

They’d never been anything less than affectionate and had spent years doting on him, so James never doubted their love, but he had always been aware on some level that they had wanted more children. As he grew, he’d put the pieces together as to why he didn’t have any siblings so he’d never resented them for their desires and instead basked in their love. 

Besides, they may not have been able to have more children, but James provided them for his parents regardless. Finding himself bringing home his ragtag group of friends, all of whom were desperate for the attention his parents had been all too happy to provide. 

Sirius was looking for a loving home that had been denied him at Grimmauld Place. Remus for the non-judgemental love that his father had been unable to provide. And Hermione to help heal the wounds her guilt had left her; both that she hadn’t been the one infected and that Lyall Lupin seemed incapable of loving his children equally. 

Not that James thought she recognised her guilt. She had spent her childhood desperately making up for the inequalities in their household. Showering Remus with the affection only she’d received, she’d been far too busy to examine her own emotions. 

He’d dragged them all home one by one. Sirius first, that initial December, having all but smuggled him back to Potter Manor in his trunk. He hadn’t realised what he’d been doing as a First Year, simply wanting to bring his friend home, but looking back now, James thought he’d known on some subconscious level. That he was bringing Sirius back to his parents like the injured animals he’d find in the gardens as a child, desperate for them to heal the wounds he couldn’t. 

Remus had come next, reluctantly brought along at Easter. He’d been hesitant at first. Something James now realised was due to fear of his condition being discovered. But he had soon embraced the Manor’s warm, loving atmosphere. Sadly stepping through the floo when he’d had to go home to ‘see Hermione’ over the Full Moon. James had made it clear he expected him back soon enough. Not yet having recognised Remus’ condition but knowing he wasn’t going to let his friend disappear the whole holiday. 

Hermione had been the last one, dragged along with Remus as their parents couldn’t stay home with them all summer. She’d been hesitant at first, too. Not for the same reasons as Remus, but because of her reluctance to jeopardise his friendships. Instead of dedicating her time to their little group, she’d spent the holiday’s quietly around Dorea. His mother secretly thrilled to finally have a girl to indulge, James had left Hermione to her and spent the summer running wild with his friends. 

His parents had embraced them all as their own over the years. Taking each of his friends in their welcoming arms and fixing them up with enough love their scars stopped hurting even if they never completely faded. 

It was only Peter that hadn’t needed his parents' attention. His own family was almost overbearing in their affections, but he had fit in with the rest of them regardless. All of them showing up over summers and Christmases to relish the loving atmosphere of Potter Manor that James had been so willing to share. 

It all seemed to have come undone now, though. Something about Alphard’s death having reverted Sirius back to that unloved twelve-year-old he’d first dragged home with him. Or worse, like the version of his friend,  _ his brother, _ that had crawled through the floo that fateful Christmas. Convinced he was alone in the world. 

It had taken the constant worried attention of his parents to drag him out of it. Weeks of caring for his injuries only just convinced Sirius he truly was welcome in their home as if he had been anything less than their son since First Year. 

That same withdrawal was happening again as Sirius seemed convinced he had no family that loved him left. As if their mother wasn’t just as much a Black as he was, regardless of her status in that family. And as if James himself hadn’t felt his magic agitated by Alphard’s death, trying to settle into its new normal.

He wanted to be frustrated with him. To shake his friend or slap him upside the head to knock some sense back into him, but James knew it wasn’t Sirius’ fault. And that eventually, with enough time and patience, he’d have his friend back to his usual joking self rather than this withdrawn, angry version of him. 

For the moment, though, Sirius had spent the last weeks of Easter in a sullen gloom that barely abated with their return to the castle. Disappearing for hours on end, presumably to bury his feelings in whichever of their willing year mates he could find. 

Besides, it wasn’t like he was the only person who had withdrawn. They had barely seen Hermione before the holiday, but James had hoped spending the break running loose around the castle would help bring her back into the fold after everything with the Twins’ birthday had gone so wrong. 

It had worked at first. She’d fallen back into her exasperated but loving role in their little group, but she’d still had that darkness in her eyes. Something James had hoped was only there due to the stress from Christmas but had remained long after they’d all moved past it. There in the back of her eyes, hidden where she likely assumed no one could see it. 

Like Sirius, he had wanted to confront her but knew it would only make her retreat further into herself. Both of them sensitive to anyone invading their privacy, even if it was with the best of intentions, so James forced himself not to press. To welcome her presence the same way he did Sirius’ when either of them re-emerged from where they disappeared off to.

Still, he couldn’t face being alone in his concerns, so James waited until Sirius had snuck out of their dorm with the map. Off to whichever dark corner was waiting for him that evening, and Peter was stuck in detention. 

Wormtail had been caught using a sticking charm to glue First Year Slytherin’s shoes to the ground by a less-than-impressed McGonagall, who had promptly hauled him into her office looking murderous. Had he not been so concerned about Sirius, James probably would have taken the time to be mad that Peter was picking on first years. But with his mind elsewhere, it was easy to overlook something they all would have participated in a few years ago. 

Besides, having Peter busy with detention meant he and Remus were alone in their dorm. Giving James the perfect opportunity to bring up the subject of Hermione and Sirius.

It wasn’t that he didn’t think Peter would share his concerns. It was more that he didn’t know how to bring it up. And he doubted Remus would appreciate James sharing his worries about his sister with anyone else before they’d discussed them. 

“Moony,” he started but chickened out. Needing more courage to address what was truly bothering him, he decided on a different route, “I want a smoke, astronomy tower?”

Something in his tone must have made Remus agree because he nodded slightly and set the book he’d been enraptured by to the side. 

Stealing a couple of cigarettes from the pack Sirius always kept in his trunk, James grabbed his cloak. Praying that Sirius, or any of the other amorous couples that haunted the dark hallways, hadn’t chosen the astronomy tower as their destination of choice. Not particularly wanting an eyeful tonight. 

In the cold air, he and Remus lit their cigarettes before talking. Both breathing in smoke like it would make the ensuing conversation easier. Remus leaning back against the ledge and looking for James to start talking. 

“Is everything okay with Mini?” 

Remus didn’t reply at first, taking a few more breaths of his smoke, the howling of the wind around the tower the only sound between them. 

Eventually, he spoke, “I don’t know.”

It sounded defeated, and James was relieved he wasn’t alone in his concerns even if it confirmed his worries that something was wrong with Hermione. 

“At first, I thought it was just after everything to do with the Shack,” Remus admitted. 

“But it wasn’t.”

“No - it wasn’t.”

“Shacklebolt?” James questioned. Hermione swore she didn’t blame them, but they’d all seen the way she’d drawn into herself after news of their break up spread around the castle, like she was afraid of getting hurt again. 

Besides, even if they had all seen it coming with the awkward distance that had been obvious between the couple, that didn’t mean it had hurt her any less. And it certainly didn’t mean he felt any less guilty over how wrong that birthday prank had gone. 

“I don’t think so,” Remus replied. Confirming James’ suspicions that no matter how upset Hermione had been over the breakup, there was something more than that happening with her. 

“Do you think she’s okay, though?” He settled on asking.

Logically, he knew Hermione would slap them both for speculating about her. Considering it a gross invasion of her privacy. But James was still worried, and based on Remus’ anxious exhale, he wasn’t alone in his concerns. 

“I don’t know,” Remus admitted again, “but Hermione wouldn’t welcome our help, and if we mention anything, she’ll shut us out completely. She’ll be fine. It just might take her some time to deal with whatever it is.”

Even as he said it, Remus didn’t look convinced so much as resigned to the fact his sister wouldn’t allow him to help any more than watching nervously from a distance. And James accepted he wouldn’t be allowed any more than that either. Instead, settling on watching her, just in case. 

With the issue of Hermione passed, there was still the case of their other friend. Who continued to disappear for hours at a time. At first, they had assumed Sirius was still processing Alphard’s death, but after returning to their dorm completely dishevelled for the third night in a row, it was clear that wasn’t all he was doing. Even if it was his method of processing that left him in such a state. 

“And Sirius?” He questioned. 

Remus huffed before replying, “I think Sirius will be fine provided he doesn’t get a  _ disease _ while working through it.”

* * *

Hermione frantically ducked the body-binding curse thrown at her left shoulder. Throwing herself to the side while casting an  _ Incarcerous  _ in response. She was sweating from exertion and breathing heavily, but she didn’t feel tired in the same way she would have weeks ago. Her magical stores growing used to being stretched in this manner, she had also learnt to better control how much power she put behind each of her spells.

Across from her, Sirius threw up a shield charm to rebound her spell. Grinning madly back at her, clearly enjoying their duel. A way to release all the anger that had filled him after Alphard’s death. 

They both enjoyed their duels for that reason. The rush it gave them, adrenaline coursing through their veins as they fired curse after curse at each other. Both mad at the world for the hand it had dealt them. They found solace in each other as they used Sirius’ experience and Hermione’s knowledge to push themselves further. Instincts improving over their weeks together. Meeting perhaps more often than was wise if they wanted it to remain a secret, they craved the release too much not to. 

They’d met nearly every day since the break because of it. Far more frequently than before Easter, spending hours in each other's presence. Not just duelling but coming down from the high of it too. Slumped against the wall of the DA’s room like they had sat on Sirius’ bedroom floor. The only thing missing was their shared bottle of firewhisky, but instead, they filled the space with quiet conversation. 

Sirius railing against his family. His hatred of everything to do with the Blacks had gradually lessened, but Hermione doubted it would ever truly go. Not until they paid for their sins. 

Other than that, they discussed the increasingly dire state of the Wizarding world. While people had known for years, things were happening in the shadows; since the Death Eater’s had stepped out of them in November, there had been near-constant reports of activity. 

_ The Daily Prophet  _ was filled with stories of families and shop keepers being intimidated by masked attackers. All of them gave the same description. Black robes, terrifying masks and no issues using the Dark Arts. More and more pro-muggleborn supporters disappeared too. All of them vanishing before their bodies were found days later, clear signs of the cruciatus or other tortures. 

The Death Eater’s hadn’t claimed responsibility for the deaths in the same way they had the Hogsmeade Attack, but everyone knew they were behind them. And that it was only a matter of time before they started claiming the deaths too. 

Their influence in the Ministry was clearly growing as well. Increasingly hostile bills passed through the Wizenmongot, all submitted under the usual  _ blood-supremacist  _ names, Malfoy, Avery, Rosier. They weren’t who Hermione was interested in, though, knowing they would have supported the bills no matter what. Instead, she was interested in the previously grey members who were leaning towards the Death Eaters views. 

She assumed much of the support from high ranking Ministry officials was the work of the Imperious, but the rest of it was from fear. You couldn’t place the entire country under the enchantment after all, and fear could be a far stronger motivator than you’d expect. Hermione knew that much, at least, thinking of the betrayal she would never let happen. 

Instead of relying on the Unforgivable, they were striking fear into the heart of the public. The random disappearances, the reports of Death Eater’s showing up at people’s homes, all of it contributed to the climate of fear that was swiftly clouding over Magical Britain. 

Hermione knew it wasn’t yet at the level it would reach. That it wasn’t even at the level it had been in the  _ other  _ war but it was steadily growing and it would only be a matter of time before irrationality took over everyone. 

She wasn’t sure if Dumbledore had formed The Order yet as most of the members she knew of were still at Hogwarts, but there were small suggestions he had. Mentions of skirmishes between Death Eaters and other unknown entities, Dumbledore’s frequent absence at meals. They couldn’t advertise their existence, but if you knew where to look, there were signs which led Hermione to suspect he had started recruiting. Probably out of those who had recently graduated and a DMLE desperately trying to fight off Voldemort's influence. Hermione doubted there were many of them, but Dumbledore had almost certainly started his resistance. 

The Potter’s were more people she didn’t know if had joined but suspected they would if they hadn’t already. Charlus and Dorea forever willing to stand up for the same values they’d instilled in their son, and James was almost too ready to fight. 

He and all the other boys, itching to leave Hogwarts, not yet understanding the true meaning of war.  While each new report of a disappearance set the country further on edge, it fuelled their desire to fight.  Hermione was only relieved there had been no indication Alphard’s death had been anything other than natural causes. Because she knew had there been any implication his family was involved, it would have sent Sirius over the edge and out of the walls of Hogwarts. 

Instead of dwelling on the fact they were still forbidden from fighting, they channelled their frustrations in preparing to do so. Spending hours in the DA’s room, casting hexes at each other since they couldn’t anyone else. 

Despite her increasingly reliable instincts, Hermione didn’t see the mild cutting curse Sirius had thrown at her. Only feeling it as it sliced open her arm. Not a large cut but enough to sting and make her hiss in pain. 

Sirius stopped moving immediately as Hermione looked down entranced, her white t-shirt slowly turning red where blood soaked the fabric. 

She was drawn out of it by Sirius’ voice, “Fuck, Kitten!.”

He punctuated his statement by jogging the short distance between them, barely giving Hermione a chance to reply before reaching out for her arm and taking it in his large but delicate hands. 

“It’s okay,” she reassured, but Sirius wasn’t interested in her answer, still examining the wound. 

“I’m fine, really,” she tried again. “I’m sure it’s not the worst thing I’ll ever get hit by.”

He growled at her words, Padfoot closer to the surface than she’d ever seen him, “But not from me!” His hands unintentionally tightened, and she hissed at the unwanted pressure. “Fuck, here, let me heal it.”

Hermione tried to protest the action. Perfectly capable of healing a small cut herself, but he shot her a disapproving look that made her fall silent, giving in to his treatment. 

Casting a quick  _ episkey, _ Sirius set about checking the wound had truly closed before moving to cast a cleansing charm on her clothes. Clearly, he didn’t realise how close they were standing, distracted by his concern, but Hermione did. 

Their bodies almost pressed together. His now gentle fingers still wrapped around her arm, rubbing circles on the exposed skin absentmindedly. It should have felt awkward, but they’d spent so much time together it no longer did. 

Instead, she welcomed his nearness. Letting him worry over the cut as he would never intentionally want to harm his friends. They’d mainly cast simple leg-locking curses and tickling charms until that point. It had mostly been the surprise of the cutting curse that had caught her guard rather than the pain of it.

“Better?” Sirius asked, looking down at her, dark brows drawn together and concern shining out of his grey eyes. 

“Better,” she smiled back at him, and he soothed his thumb down her now unblemished arm once more before smirking down at her. 

“Good.”

* * *

James didn’t know what time it was when he shot up. Their dorm cloaked in darkness, the rest of the Marauders were still asleep, but he was awake and in almost indescribable pain. 

An impossible weight bearing down on his chest, he could barely move but felt his magic sparking off him. Uncontrollable and not totally his own, James already had tears in his eyes when he started screaming. 

The other Marauders all woke with a jerk. James’ shouts, having pulled them violently from sleep, they sprinted to his bed. Despite being in varying degrees of disarray, they all looked well compared to James, who continued to struggle under the weight he was feeling. 

Looking at Sirius, James could tell the exact moment he felt even a fraction of what he did. Horror crossed his face as they both felt that same sensation they had the morning of Alphard’s death. Only it felt ten times stronger to James now, enough to drag him from sleep, while only feeling distant to Sirius. 

Instead, magic continued to spark in the air around them. Belongings levitating around them as James had no control over the changes to his family magic. 

As he struggled to breathe, Sirius asked the question James had been fearing, not wanting to confirm what he was feeling but knowing the truth already, “What’s happening?” 

“Mum,” James managed to get out between the weight of the magic pressing down on his chest and the sobs that were escaping him. 

At his terrified confirmation, tears started streaming down Sirius’ face too. 

Distantly James could hear Moony telling Peter to get McGonagall, but he and Sirius both knew there was nothing they could do. It had already happened. 

Instead, Sirius grabbed his hand and asked another desperate question, “Dad?”

“I don’t know,” James cried, but the last word was strangled as the entire weight of the Potter family magic came crashing down on him. Forcing what little air he had left in his lungs out. His whole body screamed in pain, and the belongings that had been merely levitating started spinning violently around the room like some kind of hurricane. 

And in the centre of it all, James and Sirius desperately clung to each other, knowing it was too late to do anything but mourn. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> but actually IM SORRY!!!! i was like 'i'm lulling them into a false sense of security and i feel so guilty about it,' but they had to go at some point. and you know, when it rains, it pours and it's hurricane season.  
> but im still sorryyy, we're at a low point in the story is what i'll say, i swear it'll get less despressing eventually 
> 
> TW: Character Death


	23. The Funeral

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy sunday!  
> im gonna start this off with an apology  
> IM SORRY  
> I still feel so guilty over doing that to the potters  
> i don't like me either right now  
> i really thought this fic was gonna be cute and fluffy when i started writing and somehow its not. how is that possible - aren't i one in control here. not really bc as i was writing i was like whyyyy are we doing this - but there you go i guess  
> so im sorry  
> we're in for some angst (as if we haven't been for like the last 10 chapters god)  
> but yeah - hopefully yall forgive me eventually
> 
> pinterest : https://pin.it/4Bv4F5z
> 
> TW: At end of chapter

**Spring 1977**

Remus’ face was solemn, where he was leaning against the wall outside of the tower. There were deep bruises under his eyes, and his whole body gave off an exhausted air, leaning into himself like he couldn’t stand upright. If the fact he were meeting her outside Ravenclaw wasn’t alarming in itself, his appearance would have instantly set her on edge. Exhausted and deeply unsettled, Remus looked like tragedy had struck overnight. 

“Hermione,” his voice was gravelly and grief-stricken, so she immediately abandoned Pandora to see him. 

“What’s happened?” It wasn’t a question of whether something had, only what it was. Sadness broke across Remus’ face, and Hermione felt her panic rise, “ _Remus?_ ”

“The Potters,” his lips rubbed against each other after he said it like he was trying to hold back tears, and Hermione ran cold at his words. 

“What?”

“Last night …” He shook his head as if he couldn’t bring himself to finish the sentence, and Hermione mirrored his actions. Not wanting to accept what she was being told. 

After a few moments of shocked silence, she swallowed down her grief and looked back at her brother, “James and Sirius?”

“Went back to the Manor. They have a lot to deal with.”

Hermione nodded without words while still trying to understand what had happened. Logically, she knew the Potters had been dead by 1981. That neither Dorea nor Charlus would have accepted Harry being placed in anything but their care. Nor would they have allowed Sirius to go to Azkaban. They’d never have believed him capable of betraying James and would have fought against his imprisonment even after the loss of their son.

But knowing something logically didn’t make it any easier to accept. 

She and Remus made their way to breakfast in a daze. Pandora had disappeared once the seriousness of their discussion became apparent, so she was free to join her brother at the Gryffindor table. 

No one joined them as they sat together over empty bowls. Tea clutched in their hands like it was a lifeline; they still did not speak. 

Lily Evans shot them a questioning look when she appeared in the Great Hall. Clearly concerned by Remus’ bewildered expression and James’ absence, but she didn’t approach them. The twins giving off such an air of misery that nobody dared sit near them.

It was the end of the meal when they appeared. The swarm of owls flying into the Hall, copies of _The Daily Prophet_ visible where they were clutched in their claws. The usually magical sight had taken on a very different meaning. Each flap of their wings sounded like a death march, an ominous beating as their arrival marked the last moment Hermione could deny what had happened. 

As the students opened their papers, chatter broke out around the Great Hall. The room was never quiet, but it seemed louder than ever to everyone but Hermione and Remus, who were looking down at the newspaper between them in horror. All sounds of the hall distant while they read the headline. 

**POTTERS MURDERED**

Down from them, Lily’s face went pale while she read. Glancing back at them frantically, James and Sirius’ absence finally explained. But Hermione didn’t notice any of it, too absorbed by the article about her honorary parents’ deaths. 

Details were sparse. Their bodies had been found by Aurors after James had felt the shift in his family magic, and McGonagall contacted the authorities. By that point, though, it had already been too late—a retrieval rather than a rescue. 

Beyond that, it was unclear. Despite the late hour they were attacked, the Potters had not been at the Manor. Instead, they were found down one of the alleys off Knockturn. Something no one could explain considering their well-known _light_ reputation, but Hermione had her own theories. 

If The Order had already started tracking suspected Death Eaters or watching areas they were known to frequent, there was every possibility they had been there under Dumbledore’s orders. Not something she would blame him for, they were adults and had made their own decision to join, but it wasn’t something she would forget either. That the Potters had been sent alone into an area that was known to be dangerous. 

She wasn’t quite cynical enough to think it had been on purpose, but Hermione also knew a mourning seventeen-year-old was far easier to control than their parents. Especially not Dorea and Charlus, who were formidable in their own right. Charlus, who had spent years as an Auror before becoming his own Head of House and Dorea, who was a daughter of _The Ancient and Most Noble House of Black_ —a name that had a reputation for a reason. 

If Dumbledore wanted absolute control over The Order in the way Hermione knew he did, it would be far easier to go unquestioned without them around to dispute his words. 

Besides, Dumbledore needed his child soldiers vengeful. 

Still, for all she may suspect there was more to the Potters’ death than _The Prophet_ would ever know, Hermione pushed the thoughts to the side. No amount of anger would undo what had happened, and she was playing the long game here. It would not do to act rashly. So, Hermione focused on Dorea’s drawn-out Slytherin version of revenge, rather than whatever impulsive accusations her ever Gryffindor husband and son would have chosen. Of course, her vengeance was truly for Tom Riddle, but that small part of her that questioned the Potter’s death thought about Dumbledore too. 

So, Hermione was only too willing to play the snake if it meant success in the long term. She wasn’t a Gryffindor anymore, and she’d always been a little more Slytherin than her friends anyway. 

Instead of giving in to her anger, Hermione read the article to gather what information she could about the Potters’ deaths. That there were clear signs of a struggle. A vicious duel where Charlus and Dorea had held their own but had been outnumbered and were likely up against opponents that were far more willing to step into Dark territory than they were. 

And then perhaps the most chilling revelation. The Death Eaters’ new calling card. Pictured in all its glory on the front page, Hermione recognised it from the sky of a Quidditch World Cup that hadn’t happened yet.

She may be the only person to recognise it now, but soon it would become a constant cause of terror across the country. That you would come home to find that green serpent and skull hanging over your house, a warning of what to expect inside. 

Across from her, Remus looked completely defeated. Staring down at the headline unmoving and Hermione suddenly remembered how much worse this was for her brother, so she took one of his hands from where it was wrapped around the now cold mug and held it in hers in reassurance. 

The Potters had cared for him summer after summer, and he was all but their son along with James and Sirius. But Hermione knew her brother, and knew that on top of his grief, he’d be feeling guilty for mourning them as he did. That Remus would believe he had less a right to do so than Sirius and James because the Potters weren’t his only parents in the same way they were theirs. 

Disregarding the fact, Charlus had been more a father to him than Lyall ever had. Not letting Remus’ lycanthropy affect the love he’d felt for his honorary son. Even Dorea had been more of a mother to him than Hope. They both loved their mother and knew she loved them, but Hermione also knew she had her faults, and Dorea had been there for them more than Hope ever had. 

So, Remus mourned them as he would their biological parents, and if Hermione was honest with herself, she did too. But she was at least familiar with losing people. Had become accustomed to it and knew that as the war went on, this feeling would only become more common. 

Not that you ever really got used to it. The pain of losing someone you loved, the way it settled over your very existence. Grey-tinting your days and reminding you of the loss at the worst possible times. Instead, you got better at ignoring it, at compartmentalising that fractured, broken, _aching_ piece of yourself away until there was time to deal with it properly. 

Not that there had ever been time to do so in Hermione’s experience. Forcing her instead to bury it under walls of occlumency and pray that maybe, someday, there would be a chance to properly mourn their deaths. 

So, that was what Hermione did. What she was familiar with and what she was good at. Shaped by war in one life and her brother’s trauma in another, Hermione was all too familiar with dividing herself up to deal with pain as best she could. Pushing aside her hurt and forcing herself to focus on her brother and the boys who had just lost the only set of parents they’d known. 

* * *

They waited until the weekend to leave. McGonagall hadn’t protested their departure. She knew how close the boys were and had watched her little lion cubs grow into the family they’d become, so she accepted their withdrawal for a few weeks without protest. 

It wasn’t as if there was much she could do to stop it anyway. Their seventeenth had passed, so they were already adults, but Hermione appreciated that she didn’t try and stop them. Instead, she had helped make the arrangements for them to leave and opened her floo for them to head to the Manor. 

James and Sirius looked relieved to see them. Pulling Remus into the awkward, one-armed hug, Hermione found boys always resorted to when they weren’t sure what to do with their feelings before wrapping her in their arms properly, if briefly, in greeting. 

Silence fell over them after that. No one knowing how to break it until Hermione forced herself to with a call for breakfast given the still early hour and the wan expression on all their faces. 

None of the boys looked interested in the idea of food. A clear indicator of how distressed they were if ever there was one but Tiggy, the Potters’ house-elf, seemed relieved to have something to do. Some childish part of Hermione, convinced of her own infallibility, was still appalled by the practice but looking at Tiggy’s neatly pressed crimson tunic and the anxious way she doted on them all, clearly mourning the Potters in her own way, let Hermione accept her presence. 

Breakfast was mostly silent. The boys only gave monosyllabic answers to her questions, but they were at least eating despite the way they all stared at their plates like they were covered in ash. 

Breaking the quiet again, she gently brought up the funeral plans. With the passing of the Potters’ Head of House and Matriarch, it would be expected there was a large funeral for the community rather than the smaller intimate ceremony there’d been for Alphard. 

Unlike a Muggle or traditional Wizarding ceremony, though, there would be no burial. Something that was kept private to the new Head of House and his immediate family as there was far more ritual involved in the elevation of an Heir. Instead, they would be expected to open their home for people to pay their respects. Letting them come and give their condolences while showing their neighbours and friends their good deeds—more a show of grieving than a feeling of actual loss. 

Hermione wanted to tell the boys they didn’t have to do it. That they could mourn in peace rather than invite people into their home to shower them with empty platitudes when they were already haunted by their loss. But it would be expected of them, and as the new Head of House Potter, James would have little choice but to do so. 

Instead, she helped with planning. Arranging the Manor with Tiggy while the boys continued to pass the days in shocked silence. A far cry from the usual echoing laughter and boisterous voices that filled the halls. 

None of them had quite accepted what had happened. Looking at the doors of the Master Suite whenever they passed it like they were expecting Dorea and Charlus to appear out of them and say it had all been some fantastic joke. 

Just over a week after his parent’s murders, James opened the floo to Wizarding Britain. 

In reality, the funeral was small. Many people choosing to forgo it rather than risk the wrath of Voldemort for offering support to his enemies, but the house still felt full. Filled with who Hermione recognised as Order members, even if the boys didn’t.

The spikey red hair of the Prewitt twins, so similar to their nephews, who wouldn’t appear until next year. All of them marked for a tragic end unless she somehow prevented it. More Order members or people she recognised as victims of the First War appeared throughout the day; the Bones, the McKinnons, most of them bringing along their pitying classmates too. None of them had yet learnt how to address the situation, but Hermione knew it was only a matter of time before they were all familiar with the cycle of grief. 

Andromeda also appeared. The only member of the Black family to do so, none of the Death Eater families came, and no one was surprised. It was already clear which side of the fight they stood on. The Potters hadn’t associated with them anyway. Having preferred a solitary existence with just the two of them until James came along and subsequently the rest of them too. 

Still, Andromeda at least came. Bringing along a tiny pink-haired Tonks who’d skinned her knee tumbling through the fireplace, balance an issue since her very first steps. 

Remus had no reaction to the girl. 

Hermione had no doubt he and Tonks had loved each other, but perhaps it wasn’t because she was his _mate_ or any other predestined reason. Perhaps, they were just two people who decided they cared for each other and built a relationship based on that. 

But then she thought about the subdued, colourless version of Tonks that had existed while Remus continued to reject her, and Hermione thought there may, in fact, have been more to their relationship. Maybe Tonks was still too young, or maybe Moony knew Remus well enough to understand he’d never accept his mate if he knew who she was at this age. Or, perhaps, Tonks needed to grow into the person who would become her brother's _mate_. That playful, loving young woman who’d be able to drag Remus out of his most melancholy moods and loved him so much they’d died desperately trying to save each other. 

So, there was no great moment of realisation as to who she was. 

Instead, there was just a little girl showing her cousin and his friends all the different colours she could turn her hair. Too young to truly understand what was happening but recognising the air of sadness that had permeated the Manor, she tried her four-year-old best to make things better.

She was at least rewarded with sad smiles from them all. Sirius reassuring her she’d have great fun with her talent at Hogwarts, which had earned him a reprimanding tap on the arm from her mother but a grin from the girl. 

Their visit had alleviated some of the misery, but it fell back over them in time for McGonagall to appear through the floo. She was teary-eyed over the loss of her friend. She and Dorea having bonded over the many letters she’d had to send home over James’ years at Hogwarts, but also for her students. Forever protective of her cubs. She placed a gentle hand on all the boys’ cheeks while telling them to take as long as they needed, the three of them too brilliant to really have to worry over missing a few weeks of school. NEWT years or not. 

Peter also appeared eventually. Having been left at Hogwarts, he’d made no suggestion of coming to the Manor despite the boys sending an invitation. Too awkward to come as he was never as close with Charlus and Dorea as the rest of them. The time the other boys had spent with them over summers, he had often been called home by his parents and wasn’t given the opportunity to bond with them the same way Sirius and Remus had. 

He hadn’t _needed_ their love in the same way either. 

He’d only stayed briefly, awkwardly apologising to James for his loss, showing yet again he didn’t understand the relationship the others had with the Potters. He’d clearly felt uncomfortable and had left soon after. None of the boys had chalked his reaction up to anything more than Wormtail's general awkwardness, but Hermione had other theories. 

Wondering if he was already fearing Riddle’s power like so many of the other’s who’d forgone visiting the Manor. Or if the distance between the rest of the boys and him was more to blame. Her presence intruding on his space. 

Hermione doubted she was solely responsible, though. He’d still betrayed those he called brother without her taking his place in their friendship, so Hermione didn’t worry herself over his relationship with the boys. Her years of crying over lost causes had been put well behind her. She had plans to focus on so Wormtail would have to save himself. 

Besides, she suspected it wasn’t only fear that motivated him to betray Lily, James, and Sirius. Had he only given up their location, she may have been more magnanimous, but he’d still sentenced Sirius to twelve years in Azkaban and, worse than that, had helped reanimate the very monster his friends had died fighting against. So as far as she was concerned, he was as bad as Snape, and certainly not her responsibility for redeeming. 

The last person to arrive was Dumbledore right before they closed the house for the evening. His sympathetic, grandfatherly persona already in place as James let him through the wards.

Hermione avoided him. Partly due to her suspicions over the safety of her thoughts around the wizard. She knew he was a skilled legilimens and had avoided him since the solstice out of fear he would discover what she knew. Her other reason for avoiding him was the Potters’ death themselves. Still unsure if it had been an unfortunate accident or something more calculated. 

James had just become a powerful figure, after all. A newly elevated Head of House, he’d be expected to take up his seat in the Wizenmongot when he finished his schooling. And for all Dumbledore may like to look down on Slughorn’s collecting of potentials, Hermione knew he liked to do the same. 

Even if he was less obvious about it, preferring the misfits. Children with nothing left to lose. And who better than a disgraced heir, a werewolf and a freshly orphaned child trying to step into his father’s legacy. All of whom despised the Dark Arts even before losing their parents to them. 

From where she hid across the room, she could see them talking and knew what he’d be saying. That he’d be making oblique references to The Order. Just enough to draw them in. To make all three boys desperate to fight back, for Remus and Sirius to prove themselves different from everyone's assumptions, for James to honour his parents' memory. 

She was furious thinking about it but knew there was nothing she could do. They had wanted to fight long before Dumbledore brought up the possibility, and nothing would shake their faith in the ‘Leader of the Light’ until the illusion shattered dramatically. 

She’d never doubted it after all. 

She’d brought into his persona for years. Followed Harry willingly on his orders; starved, and fought, and _bled_ for Dumbledore’s orders until she’d realised what he had set them up to do. What he had raised Harry to do. Through careful trials and promises and the manipulation of his parents' memory, he had convinced Harry to fight, and Hermione had fallen for it as well. 

And now, she was letting Dumbledore do the very same thing to Harry’s father. Allowing him to use the Potters deaths to convince their children to fight. Not that they really needed convincing to join so much as to lay down their lives for what's _right_. 

To do as their parents once did. As Harry did for Lily and James and the way the boys would for Charlus and Dorea. 

So, she avoided Dumbledore. Because looking at him come to a funeral to recruit his army made her blood boil. And despite her determination to avoid his notice, Hermione wasn’t sure she could do it if she had to hear him talk about making sacrifices for the _Greater Good_ once more. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So fun fact : Tiggy the Potter's House Elf, is named after my sister. I call her Chiplet but everyone else calls her Tiggy and it was just such a perfect house elf name I had to use it (also the idea of my lazy little sister being a house elf will never stop amusing me) 
> 
> TW: Reference to Character Death


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